


Don't Forget Me, Don't Regret Me

by colepaldigirl



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-15 01:03:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 78,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7199123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colepaldigirl/pseuds/colepaldigirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is RPF. If you are uncomfortable with it, I understand and encourage you not to read. </p><p>Series 9 filming is coming to an end and Peter just isn't himself. His wife Elaine can spot exactly what's wrong but the situation is awkward for everyone involved. He's dreading Jenna's departure from the show and he's realising why, but its too late to do anything.</p><p>So Jenna and Peter part ways, but when they come across one another again at a charity event their feelings for one another are rekindled, that's if they ever died. It's a mess for all involved trying to work out what should happen for the best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A note on RPF: This is a Real Person Fiction and a lot of people feel uncomfortable reading these. I can completely understand that and if it’s not for you please feel free to skip it.
> 
> My view of RPF is that because I don’t know the people involved I can’t possibly know what they are like in real life. My portrayal of them will therefore be totally inaccurate, so inaccurate it’s probably laughable to anyone who knows them. They are about as fictional as any other character I might write with any other name. RPF just happens to contain characters with the same names as my heroes and some vague descriptors eg Jenna and Peter look like Jenna and Peter, they star in a show called Doctor Who. There may also be some reference to real life events, like a particular episode filmed. 
> 
> The things I make them do or say however are entirely imaginative and would never happen in real life. I intend no offense whatsoever to anyone mentioned by name in these fics or to their families. Its fantasy only. The safest thing, as I say, is not to read them if you think they might bother you, just like I don't read certain fics myself.

He’d once said that his party trick was ‘vanishing,’ and sure enough he thought he’d managed it again, smoothly exiting Jenna’s leaving bash and making his way on foot back to his apartment. The light was just starting to fade and the late summer air was still warm so he decided to skip the taxi or the waiting BBC car, and maximise his thinking time. He received the odd smile and wave but the public seemed to sense that now was not the time and gave him a wide berth. He wondered if his face looked particularly grim in the growing shadows or if he had actually signed autographs for the entire population of Cardiff.

He _felt_ grim. Not the usual exhaustion that came with the long days and the wrap party, he was almost perpetually cheerful and energetic through those because after all, this was _Doctor Who_ , this was his dream. No, this was a different feeling, empty and strangely painful. Something had ended, or was just about to, something unique and beautiful in its own way, and by God he was going to miss it.

He was going to miss it so much it must have been all over his face last weekend, when on a visit home Elaine had stood watching him from the doorway of his studio for an age. He hadn’t even noticed, his mind elsewhere; on the significance of it all, on the upcoming ending. He had his guitar on his lap and he was practicing the tune he’d have to play while she walked out the door in those final scenes. The notes rang out sparsely under his fingers, haunting and lonely while he stared out the window unseeing.

‘You’re supposed to be living the dream,’ Elaine said at last, ‘Not mooching about in here all day.’

He felt it, a heaviness in his chest that stopped him replying, stopped him lightening the mood. He heard his wife step into his private sanctuary and he knew he must look bad if she had crossed that threshold, this was his area, to think, to be. Her hands crept up his shoulders and the tone of her voice changed to one of concern.

‘You’re really going to miss her, aren’t you?’ she asked, and he was surprised to feel a lump form in his throat so hard he couldn’t answer. Elaine rubbed back and forth over his T-shirt. ‘I can understand that,’ she said, ‘She’s quick and talented, and great fun. You practically live in each other’s pockets, you see more of each other than we do,’ she laughed and it seemed genuine enough. He managed a thin smile.

‘She’s pretty too,’ Elaine said, testing him, ‘Very pretty.’

He didn’t respond, well what could he say to that?

‘She adores you,’ she continued.

‘Don’t be silly, I’m twice her age, she doesn’t see me like that, she has a boyfriend,’ the words tumbled out a little too well rehearsed, he’d said them often enough to himself in the mirror.

‘She does,’ Elaine corrected him with a smile in her voice, ‘The way she looks at you, I know that look, trust me I’ve looked at you that way myself.’

He couldn’t reply. The words gave him the tiniest hint of pride. Sometimes he’d caught Jenna looking at him sideways, big eyes, long lashes and he’d wondered, does she? Before dismissing the idea. He swallowed the pride and chided himself.

Elaine saw it, sighed, slipped her arms around his neck. ‘I’m going to say something so don’t interrupt,’ she said.

He waited, quietly.

‘You and I,’ she started, ‘we’ve been together thirty years, we’re about as solid as it comes, we’ve survived everything life has thrown at us. And one day, maybe in another thirty years, we’re going to be sitting next to each other in our recliners, in our care home, eating food that’s been mushed in a blender.’

He smiled again at the image, a little more easily, and she squeezed his shoulders.

‘We’re indestructible,’ she said.

‘Where’s this going?’ he asked.

‘I said no interruptions,’ she poked his chest.

‘Sorry,’ but he felt better already. He just wasn’t sure what she was about to say, where she was headed. Elaine sensed his confusion and seemed to speed up her argument.

‘So what I’m saying is you can assume we’re going to be fine no matter what, I will always love you,’ she said, ‘But you’ve got this gift of a job, a gift of an experience. We’re sailing round the world visiting all these incredible places, meeting all these people. You get to be your hero all day, you get to be the star, you get a beautiful young companion for a while. And she _is_ beautiful…’ she peered round to look at him and he felt his face flush a little.

‘Umm…Yes…’ he stammered. Elaine ruffled her fingers through his hair at his bashfulness.

‘My point is,’ she continued, ‘it doesn’t last. You get three or four years of this kind of life, tops.’

‘I know… so don’t get too big for my boots. Are you about to ask me to sort the recycling?’ he tried to deflect from the awkwardness he felt building.

Elaine laughed, a sound that always pleased him. ‘No, I’m not, although now you mention it, it does need doing before you head back to Wales…. No, what I’m saying is you have this window where everything you’ve ever wanted is yours. You have to embrace it, all of it, live it while you can. I don’t want to be sitting next to you in our care home and see you regretting something you didn’t do. Because that’s what happens, people regret the things they weren’t brave enough to do, more than  the things they did.’

He fiddled with the top ‘E’ string of his guitar, tuned it a little with the peg. ‘What am I not brave enough to do…?’ he asked afraid of her answer but feeling it coming.

‘You know…’ she said kindly. ‘It’s written all over your face and if there’s one thing I can’t bear it’s your face when you’re hurting.’

There was a strange shift in the atmosphere. Not to hostility or discomfort in any way but instead he felt a pressure to give in, to say something, admit what he felt and be absolved. He could feel her looking him as she stepped around to face him, but it was with kindness.

‘You really care for her, don’t you?’ she said, saving him the job of confession.  He debated whether to play the fool before he realised in seconds that this was Elaine, she’d never believe it if he said no. He nodded roughly and managed to squeeze out a ‘Yeah,’ in reply.

‘I know you do, and I know you’ve never crossed the line, but you’ve got about a week left and then she’s gone,’ she said.

‘She’s not dying, Elaine, she only lives down the road.’

‘You’ve got a week left,’ she said again, ‘And then this thing, your little bubble in Cardiff where it’s just the two of you, it’ll be over, you’ll never be able to recreate it even if you try and it can’t exist outside of that bubble.’

He looked up at her from where he sat, ‘What are you trying to say to me?’

She shrugged a little, oddly relaxed. ‘I’m saying… you have a week. Use it. Make a few memories, the Doctor and his Companion. Do the things you’ve dreamt of, been curious about. Do something you can look back on and smile. Something… for both of you.’

He looked at her puzzled but he could feel his heart thudding in his chest, ‘Are you saying…?’ he started, ‘You want me to…? You want Jenna and I...?’

‘I don’t want you to _do_ anything, it’s not an order,’ she reassured with a small laugh, ‘But I want you to be fulfilled, however you attain that. I want to look across at you in your recliner when you’re ninety and know you lived life to the absolute full, that being the Doctor was everything you dreamed of, and you have no regrets, no missed opportunities, no ‘I wish I’d been bravers.’’

‘Elaine…’

She leaned forward and kissed his lips softly to silence him. ‘I know,’ she said, ‘Best wife ever. Best husband. Loyalist, most thoughtful, sweetest husband. I trust you completely, I know you love me. I know you’ve never, ever cheated. So just this once, do what you need to do, whatever that might be, and I think you know. You have my permission.’

He couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing but at the same time he felt a frisson of excitement. ‘I can’t just… I don’t want to hurt you. ’ he protested again.

‘Shh stop thinking so hard. I love you, and I like Jenna, you have good taste.  Just… just make sure you get everything you can out of this week. Everything you need, and leave the guilt out of it. I’ll still be here, always will be.’ She straightened up and studied his face calmly. ‘I think you need this,’ she explained, ‘I think your heart is breaking.’ And she left him alone again, thoughtfully stewing over what she had said.

His heart was breaking. That was probably a bit dramatic. At least that’s what he had thought at the start of the week. As Elaine’s words rang through his mind as he reached the apartment he wasn’t so sure. The party had been unbearable, watching Jenna had been unbearable. Young, beautiful, a whole career stretched out in front of her which he was certain would include so many awards and accolades. She was starting _Victoria_ soon and had done a small part in a movie half way through filming _Who_. Her performances had been incredible. She was blossoming, earning well deserved kudos and as such she was about to fly. Fly right out of their bubble, out of their friendship and off to the big wide world.

 He should be happy for her, he _was_ happy for her, but inside of him a selfish nugget wanted to keep her right where she was, persuade her not to leave again as he had last year, stop her from moving on to bigger better things. He chastised himself for even thinking that way, she deserved everything good in this world, it was very much his problem if he felt too possessive, too smitten with her to let go. Idiot, selfish, old idiot.

He let himself into the empty space he lived in five days a week. It probably didn’t help his state of mind, being so far from Elaine and Cissy and everything that mattered. He didn’t do well alone in faceless accommodation. He kept a few things here during the week but it had the clean emptiness of a basic hotel suite rather than a flat. He thought back to his first flat in London when he had moved there in his twenties, a typical tip, unaired and largely uncleaned. How far he had come, and a lot of that had been because he took guidance from his wonderful wife. Maybe she was right, she usually was. Maybe he needed to somehow conclude this ‘thing’ he felt with Jenna, give it a name and substance so that he could let go. If he was brave enough.

He stood for a moment in the doorway deciding what to do. It was probably too late, he reasoned, too late at night and too late in general. The week had flown by, wasted, his focus on not losing his focus while they shot emotional scene after emotional scene. Now Jenna was at her party, leaving for London tomorrow and he… well he was chickening out, reaching for a bottle of red wine after a night on soft drinks. He deserved some comfort. He didn’t have the guts. He would just sit here and try to be happy for everything they had shared and her bright future.

He was about halfway through the first glass when the intercom rang out.

His heart leapt. He knew there was only one person it could be, but surely she was still at the party, it was after all, her party to begin with.  But Jenna quite often did what he did when parties became too busy or rowdy. She wasn’t a fan of watching others get drunk so she’d disappear when they were too tipsy to notice. She’d end up dropping in, or on ordinary nights after shooting she’d trot round from her own soulless flat to keep him company, run through lines, make him laugh. Pyjamas and pizza, she called it, almost a ritual for them now.

He put down his glass and pulled his lower lip through his teeth as he pictured her waiting. This could be awkward, not least because of Elaine’s suggestion, but because he quite genuinely didn’t think he could keep it together if Jenna said anything about them parting ways, and the end of an era. He didn’t usually do crying, but they’d done a few scenes recently where the tears had been painfully close to real.

The intercom went again and his instinct pushed him to stand. He couldn’t leave her on the doorstep and he was suddenly filled with a deep need to see her, one on one, without the rest of crew hanging around. In a couple of strides, he was at the door, pressing the button. He waited behind it, anxiously, not wanting to look too keen by having it open and ready for her.  Shortly he heard the click of her heels in the corridor outside followed by a burst of knocking.

He swung open the door, fixed his brightest smile on his face.

‘Peter! You escaped!’ Jenna standing in the corridor looking at him mock disapprovingly, still in her party dress.

‘Um… yeah not good with these things.’

‘Me neither,’ she held up two bottles of wine she appeared to have lifted from one of the tables at her do. He raised his eyebrows. ‘Pyjamas and er… wine?’ she suggested with a smile.

Her dimples were infectious and he felt his heart lift at the sight of her. He stepped back and let her pass.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Oh she had been nervous. She was never nervous around Peter but the second she made the decision to leave the party she had butterflies. She was glad she had taken some wine, glad she’d taken that taxi; walking in these shoes would hurt and anyway this left her no time to think. One moment she was at the pub the crew frequented during the week, the next she was ringing the bell at his door. Because he would have gone home, slinked out the back feeling awkward, he wouldn’t have gone anywhere else because the public would spot him and by the looks of him this evening he was exhausted, weary eyed and lacking his usual sparkle.

That was one reason she decided to drop by, leave the revellers and check on her buddy, make sure he was OK. The other reason had been slowly forming over the last two and a half years if she really confessed. Every pyjama and pizza night had been a dry run, working towards a fantasy she never really anticipated would come true. It still wouldn’t, she bet. She would turn up and snap back into reality, drink the wine, talk about how much fun they had together and then go home. Go home, sleep, go back to London and leave it all behind.

Jenna stood at the outside door to the BBC hired apartments and craned her neck to look up towards his windows. It was just getting dark enough for him to have to turn on his lights, and there they were. She took a deep breath and cradled the two bottles of wine she had stolen in one arm while the other hand tugged and straightened her red dress. She patted down her hair a little, just frayed round the edges from dancing. Peter didn’t dance, he said, apparently he lacked the co-ordination, so she had danced with Steven instead, and then Peter was gone.

Well he wasn’t getting away that easily. She knew exactly what was going on the big Scottish drip. He was deeply sensitive and emotional beneath those eyebrows and he was struggling with this, with her going, with them parting. He’d been nothing but supportive, encouraging and pleased for her. He’d lavished her with congratulations gifts for her new leading role. But when she glanced at him between takes she saw his mask slip a little, just now and then, just enough to tell her he would miss her. Of course he wouldn’t talk about it, he was instead a battery of bad jokes, gossip, rehearsals, anything but discuss the topic they both thought about each night they spend alone in Wales.

She pressed the buzzer for his flat and waited, suddenly convinced he would not answer. She looked up and down the street on the off chance he’d popped out to buy something from the little shop, he hadn’t eaten she knew, because once again he was seeing fans during their break. She almost dropped the wine when the buzzer sounded to announce the door was open and he was in.

Like a hundred times before Jenna climbed the stairs, careful to protect her cargo. She was half way up when she wondered if she ought to have brought food? Pizza? Chinese? Damn she didn’t think. He’d be starving. Too late now, she rounded the final bannister and spied his door, not open. Bad sign? It occurred to her as she knocked that she had never been so analytical when popping over to Peter’s place. He’d probably find it hilarious.

The door swung open and she fixed her brightest most dimpled smile onto her face to hide her nerves.

‘Peter!’ she exclaimed, ‘You escaped!’

He muttered something about not being good at parties and there was a small exchange. He looked oddly tense and definitely tired. His laughter lines seemed no longer about laughter but sadness even though his smile was as bright and wide as hers. Over the time they had spent together Jenna had come to read him well, even when he thought he was hiding his feelings effectively. Tonight it looked like he was struggling to pretend, that the façade would crumble in minutes. She held up the bottles, ‘Pyjamas and er.. wine?’ she asked, and he let her in.

‘Oh, you already have wine?’ she teased spying his half empty glass.

Peter slouched over to his couch and sat heavily at one end, retrieving his bottle of red and topping himself up. He was still dressed in his ‘Jenna’s party’ gear and looked annoyingly dashing with minimal effort while she had spent nearly two hours getting ready and trying to put waves in her hair. All he had to do was throw on a T-shirt and a black shirt, tight black jeans and his jacket and he was set.

‘I don’t know why, but I felt I needed it tonight,’ he glanced up at her, gave her a tiny smile, one that looked distinctly painful. ‘Dutch courage, maybe.’

‘For what?’ Jenna sat at the other end of the couch, put her contribution to the wine stock on the floor and began undoing the buckles of her extremely high heels.

‘Oh you know,’ he leaned on his elbow, fingers running anxiously through his hair now and then. ‘Having to go to a party, having to listen to how wonderful you are all night, having to properly finally realise you’re leaving,’ the final words came out so softly Jenna looked up from her struggle with her shoes. That twitch of a smile again and he looked away from her, sipped his wine.

Jenna scooted closer and put one hand on his knee, ‘Hey, I’ll miss you too,’

‘Who said I’d miss you?’

‘Shut up.’

‘You just assume…’

‘Shut up,’ she said again, ‘Don’t pretend. There’s only me and you here now.’

The words made him flinch and again he looked away. She heard him draw a breath that was ragged round the edges and swallow hard. Again his hand ran through his hair and then finally cautiously he looked back at her. The façade was crumbling quicker than she had expected. His eyes were red, it always gave him away, the way they reddened long before tears actually fell. Jenna squeezed his knee again.

‘Ouch,’ he complained and she frowned not understanding. She looked down and then gasped in horror.

‘Oh no! Sorry, wrong knee! Bad knee, painful!’ she took her hand away as though scalded, ‘I’m so sorry, there’s me trying to comfort you and I’m aggravating your bloody knee.’

Peter was holding in his laughter which was at least an improvement, but it was an odd mix of feelings she could see in him now; amusement layered over pain, both physical and emotional. She decided to go with the amusement for the moment, having hopelessly squeezed his injured leg. Jenna rolled her eyes at herself and went back to getting her shoes off. With a giggle Peter plonked down his glass on the little table by his side.

‘Do you need a hand?’ he asked watching her struggle with the air of a man who had watched women fight their shoes for years.

‘No,’ she growled, uncomfortably bent and in danger of chipping her nail polish.

‘Come here…’ he beckoned her towards him and then in a smooth movement he had her legs over his lap so that he could work on the straps of her heels. Jenna tipped back against the couch.

‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘they’re beautiful but also the most painful things I’ve worn this year. Clara’s shoes are mostly sensible…’

‘Whereas yours have five inch heels.’

‘I _need_ five inch heels,’ she watched him shake his head as the first shoe came off in his hands. He carefully set it down on the carpet and repeated the process with shoe number two. She glanced down at the red marks biting into her skin and wondered if it had been worth all the pain but when Jenna moved slightly to retract her legs she found herself up against gentle resistance.

‘They look sore,’ Peter said, one warm hand running down the top of her foot.

‘They are,’ she admitted, ‘But that’s my fault for being so vain.’

‘True,’ his hand stroke over her foot again, massaging carefully around the deep indents the straps had left behind. She leaned forward a bit and batted his upper arm which made him smile cheekily.

‘I am not vain,’ she said leaning back into the cushions as he continued to work on her sore feet. She felt his thumb slip under her arches and press, easing the cramp like feeling that had been developing over the last few hours. Jenna watched him for long minutes, reluctant for the time to end, feeling increasingly relaxed as his hands worked her ankles and tense muscles. If he kept going he’d be half way up her calves. This wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, she thought. She made a contented noise and shifted a little, immediately regretting her actions. Her movements seemed to highlight to Peter what he was doing. His hands slipped down her shins to squeeze her feet again and then he gently lifted her legs from his lap.

Damn. Jenna sat up, ‘I was enjoying that!’ she protested. Peter gave her a bashful smile and returned his attention to his wine while she pouted.

‘OK, well, I need to get out of this dress anyway,’ she stood in her bare feet.

‘What?’ Peter spluttered a little.

‘What’s the matter with you? I don’t usually spend the evenings with you all glammed up. It’s more of a jeans and jumper thing.’

‘And I suppose you have those stashed in your tiny handbag?’ he asked a little wide eyed.

‘No, you dafty, I’m going to borrow yours.’

‘Sure. But I think you’ll find the inside leg a little too long,’ he remarked.

‘A T-shirt,’ she corrected, ‘I’ll skip the jeans because the t-shirt will be at my knees.’ Jenna bent again and picked up her shoes before she helped herself to Peter’s bedroom. It told her a lot that he didn’t seem the least bit disturbed by the idea of her going through his things in his room, he just stayed where he was sipping wine. He was comfortable with her, had been since about day three, simpatico he called it, and it was.

Jenna spotted his dresser and started combing through neatly folded t-shirts with various graphic designs. It gave her a moment to think, to double check what she was doing. Perhaps if things were different with Richard right now she would have thought twice, their on again off again relationship currently off, but as the scent of laundry wafted up from the drawers she realised she would have done this anyway. Peter was intoxicating and she was addicted. In a few days they would go their separate ways and she just wanted…

She pulled out a light t-shirt with a skull design and draped it over the bed. She fiddled with the zipper to her dress and writhed a little trying to undo it.

What did she want? Sex? To make love? It was both and neither of those things. Her relationship with Peter was unique and at times peculiar, but more and more she had thought of doing this, of somehow sealing their experiences together with this last expression of adoration. Because she did adore him, she couldn’t help it and she was painfully aware that sometimes it was obvious. Even his wife had noticed, pulling Jenna aside in San Diego and reminding her shockingly to tone down the gentle flirtation and the way her eyes would follow his every move.

Jenna had been mortified, and Elaine had just been so nice. She of all people could understand, she said. He was funny and kind and hadn’t a clue just how good he was, and now he was blossoming, but he still didn’t see how talented he was, how decent a human being. She wanted to show him, did Jenna feel that too? So standing on the balcony of the Capaldis’ hotel suite Jenna had said yes, yes she did, she wanted to give him all of that and to take something small for herself and treasure it. Elaine let her into a secret then. She was fairly sure he felt the same way. She’d think about it.

One night. Please let it happen, please let her have that and then she’d let go.

She wriggled again in her dress.

‘Need a hand… again?’ he laughed.

He was in the doorway, leaning so the weight was off his bad leg.

‘I don’t seem to be doing very well at undressing myself tonight,’ Jenna joked, but her face was burning. She was glad the room was gloomy as evening drew in outside. ‘One of the guys from wardrobe zipped me into it before I left for the party and now I can’t get out.’

‘You and your minions, Jen…’ Peter pushed off the doorway and signalled for her to turn around. He took the wayward zip in hand and lowered it to the base of her spine in an easy movement. Jenna felt the tips of his fingers graze her back. He held the zip for a moment too long before he stepped back suddenly.

‘When you’re ready, come through, otherwise I’ll finish the wine…’ he called as he left. Jenna turned and caught a glimpse of his silhouette departing to the lounge. Her skin tingled where he had touched her.


	3. Chapter 3

Jenna hovered by the door, just in the shadows of the bedroom and watched as Peter made a beeline for his glass as he returned to the living room. He didn’t usually drink, not like this. He knocked the remains back and she raised her eyebrows. What was wrong with him? The number of times Jenna had been over, got changed, hung out, he didn’t think anything of it normally. But this didn’t feel normal, she knew that, and she was sensing he knew too.

‘Stop being an idiot,’ Peter said to himself and took a swig of wine.

‘Um… ok… talking to yourself? Been a long day?’ Jenna padded over and clambered onto the couch, tucking her legs under herself and scooting over to where he sat. The T-shirt she had picked came to mid thigh and she tugged it over her knees. She’d also stolen a pair of his stripy socks. She noticed that while she had been changing he had procured a spare wine glass which stood ready for her on the little table.

‘Not long enough,’ he said in a slightly rough tone. She watched him stare into his glass until he felt the weight of her gaze and roused himself, flashed an unconvincing smile. ‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘I just can’t believe its actually finished.’

‘The series or…’ she pushed the truth just behind a fragile veil.

‘Don’t make me spell it out,’ he said, the gravel still in his voice. Jenna reached forward and wrapped her fingers around his forearm, squeezed gently, no injuries here she could aggravate.

‘Nothings over,’ she said, ‘Well obviously the shoot is, but you and me, that kind of friendship doesn’t just vanish.’

He shook his head slightly and spun the glass in his hand.

‘It doesn’t!’ Jenna argued, ‘We’ll still see each other. I live nearby, you can come and knock me up.’

A heavy pause followed by a  sudden gush of laughter from Peter and she realised what she had said. ‘Not that kind of getting knocked up,’ she giggled, ‘Shut up, stop laughing, I’m being sincere, we should talk, we should… oh what’s the point!’ she protested as he set his glass aside for fear of spilling the contents. He had one hand over his eyes now and the other pressed to his side.

‘Jenna, as much as I’d love to knock you up…’ he started and she was hit by a second wave of hysteria. She sensed a sudden release of tension in the room, the unspoken, freed. It had been with them all day tormenting them and now it was coming loose. At the bottom of it all they were such good friends that tension couldn’t exist that long.

‘I know, I know, I shouldn’t get my hopes up,’ she laughed, ‘You’re way out of my league.’

‘I think you’ll find it’s the other way around,’ he said pleasantly, getting his laughter under control. Jenna looked over at him, wiping a tear from her eye.

‘Nah,’ she said gently, ‘You just don’t know how special you are.’

He immediately blushed, always so deeply modest, and distracted himself by pouring her glass of the wine. The bottle clattered a little on the lip, spilling a few drops of merlot, and on instinct Jenna reached forward and steadied his hand. She ended up half way across his lap, her face close to his burning cheek, his head turned from her. It was an awkward and intimate position but neither seemed able to move from it.

After a moment, a long embarrassing moment from which she thought she’d never escape, she felt his hand slide around her hip, over her T Shirt to the base of her back. His long fingers touched her spine. He turned his face slightly to her again and risked looking at her.

‘Hi,’ she said with drawing her hand from his. He set down the bottle.

‘Jenna…’ now she placed her hand over his chest, over roughly the area of his heart beat. She looked at him questioningly, watched him wet his lips. He smelled of wine and aftershave, berries and citrus. This close his eyes were a multitude of colours, no longer a simple blue, and his skin an intriguing and beautiful map of who he was and who he had been. He looked down at her hand on his breastbone, his mouth open slightly and warm breath hitting her fingers. It was all she could do not to kiss him then and there, but he felt skittish and unsure beneath her and she had no right to push. He was married. If he asked her to go, she would go. Jenna couldn’t believe how hard she wished she could stay. He was married, but sometimes things weren’t black and white.

He still he didn’t move and she shifted to be more comfortable against him. He responded by allowing his fingers to stroke up her back a little, curve back down to her hip, long slow, firm motions. She felt like she was on fire but couldn’t show it, until her breathing sped up and gave her away. Her hand still on his chest registered his increasing heartrate and when she looked at him again his pupils were wide. She saw him glance at her lips and then catch himself.

Tentatively Jenna lifted her free hand to his hair, stroked her fingers through it. It was remarkably soft and full and this close she could trace the colours of his youth amongst the silvery grey. He closed his eyes as she touched him and a small smile reappeared on his lips. He was relaxing and in turn she breathed a sigh of relief. A minute passed and she brought her hand down to his cheek, rubbed the slightest growth of stubble she found there and the dimples of his smile. Seemingly without thinking he turned and kissed her hand.

Jenna held her breath slightly and a second later his eyes opened quickly. He looked at her abashed, ‘Sorry,’ he said. She felt him release her from her embrace.

‘Don’t be sorry,’ Jenna said, ‘You seem so relaxed.’

‘I’m a bit too relaxed,’ he confessed as he pulled himself a little more upright on the couch. He ran his fingers through his hair nervously, ‘Sorry I was a million miles away, I wasn’t thinking…’

Jenna cocked her head. She had a sudden feeling this was it, raise the topic now or never.

‘A million miles away or right here in the moment?’ she asked, refusing gently to give up her place leaning against him.

His face gave him away. Peter and his uniquely expressive face. A wonderful gifted actor but a useless liar. He started chewing his thumb, a dead give-away, his ultimate tell. She took his hand away from his face like you might a child gnawing on their nails.

‘Peter,’ she started confidently, and he looked at her like a rabbit in headlights, ‘I want to… um…’ and then her words failed her. ‘Shit…’ she finished. He raised his eyebrows and looked as though he was about to make some terrible joke to hide all the feelings, ‘No, shut up,’ she cut him off. ‘This is important. We’re finished here, no more A team, no more Pete and Jen and…’ all of a sudden the emotions she’d be keeping back caught up with her.

She had an image of earlier in the day, when she had been shooting the final diner scene dressed in her blue waitress outfit. Peter had been off camera, not even in costume. He looked like himself, not the Doctor; he played his own acoustic guitar. That bloody tune, that bloody heartrending tune. Over and over she kept going to the door to the ‘console room’ and turning back. All she had to do was look at him. Surely she could manage that?

It took take after take and the tears kept forming. She’d apologised so many times to the crew and there was a light sense of awkwardness as they watched her come apart just a little with each attempt. It was embarrassing, and she hadn’t expected it to feel that bad. All she had to do was say goodbye.

It was starting again and she couldn’t get her words out because her lips were quivering and betraying her and the lump in her throat was corrupting her voice into a cracked squeak. She tried to swallow and tip her head back, stop the wretched unwanted tears from falling but they did, just a little and she was forced to wipe them away one by one, all the time trying to protect her make up. Soon there were too many and she felt Peter’s hands come to her face and with both thumbs smooth away the teardrops.

He pulled her towards him a little, rested her forehead against his.

‘Sorry,’ she said with cracked voice, ‘Sorry, this is ridiculous.’

‘Shh…’

‘Urgh I’m a mess…’

‘You’re beautiful,’ he said and moved his hands to her hair, massaged soft circles into her skull and down her neck. She felt herself relax a bit.

Jenna didn’t know exactly how it happened but the next thing she knew his lips had found hers and very gently placed the most tender of kisses onto her mouth. Gentle, but insistent, soft, but with no expectation. He pulled back still holding her head and looked into her eyes. Jenna sniffed and wiped at her nose.

Peter laughed gently. ‘Would you like a tissue?’ he asked. She nodded awkwardly and slid backwards off the couch.

‘I’ll get it,’ she said, ‘I’ll just…’ she gestured to the bathroom door and watched him sit back again against the couch. He smiled at her, reassuringly, but with a layer of something unseen below. She couldn’t quite read his features. He was hurting but he was also comforting her. Did he want more or had he drawn a line he couldn’t cross? Maybe he was warring with himself? Maybe she was kidding herself and he would never betray Elaine. But she’d spoken with Elaine herself so there was that possibility. She was just aware she was seeing everything through the perspective of hope and the seed Elaine had planted in her mind.

She shut the bathroom door and lowered the loo seat, perching on the top of the toilet and grabbing a handful of tissue. Jenna blew her nose and dried her eyes, noticed the smeared mascara and went about trying to clean it all up. She felt ill, so unhappy she felt physically affected. There was a car waiting to take her to London first thing, away from all of this, all the fun they’d had. Things would never be the same. What if there was never another chance, another moment as private and special as this.

She looked in the mirror and grimaced. Her hair was mussed from where he’d been stroking it and her make up had given up the ghost. Her eyes were red. Beautiful? He was mistaken. Jenna tugged down his T-shirt again and took a final swipe at her face with a tissue.

She emerged into the living room and found Peter opening one of her bottles of wine as he stood in the attached open plan kitchen. He had removed his jacket and, she noticed, his shoes, revealing the companion stripy socks to the ones she had pinched. She grinned and he followed her eye line and then looked at her feet. Snorting he withdrew the cork with a pop.

‘Sorry ‘bout that,’ Jenna said joining him at the counter.

‘Not the first time I’ve made a girl cry,’ he said with a little sadness.

‘Shut up, you didn’t make me cry. The situation made me cry.’

He nodded slightly and then asked, ‘What is the situation exactly?’ his voice sounded anxious.

Jenna thought for a moment. ‘We’re best buddies,’ he seemed to sag a little at the description and nodded to himself. She continued quickly, ‘Best buddies, about to be separated. We spend all day, every day together. We spend our evenings together too keeping one another company, learning lines, eating food, winding one another up... flirting, you have to admit to a fair bit of that. And now all that’s going to be gone.’

‘I daresay we’ll get used to it…’ he said unconvincingly.

‘We’ll see each other now and then,’ she replied, ‘But you know what schedules get like. You’ll be here all the time, I’ll be goodness knows where…’

‘America probably,’ he suggested, ‘Hollywood.’

Jenna rolled her eyes and took the proffered glass. ‘No, I don’t think so. Peter, this is hard, really hard, and we’re both hurting over it, more probably than either of us expected.’

He looked at her, ‘Both…?’ he asked carefully, ‘Jenna I’m just being selfish. You’d be better off forgetting about all this and focusing on the amazing opportunities you have coming up. Really I’ve no right to be upset, and I’m not really… I’m happy for you, you’re going to be fantastic.’

Jenna appraised his features, ‘I don’t one hundred percent believe that.’

‘Why not?’

‘When you’re unhappy your eyes look grey. They change colour.’

He looked at her steadily for a moment, ‘That’s what my wife says,’ he said at last. Jenna smiled in sympathy.

‘She’s right,’ she said. A pause settled over the kitchen. Near the end of it Peter sighed.

‘I don’t know what to do,’ he admitted, ‘I can’t think, all I can think of is you going and me being… it sounds silly…’

‘Go on.’

‘I feel like you’re leaving me,’ he attempted to explain, ‘And that’s so silly, I’m taking it too personally, you’re just leaving the show, but…the last couple of years we’ve been so close, I’ve got all these feelings about our friendship and no way to…  oh forget it. I’ve had too much wine and I’m being an idiot. ’

Jenna approached him and slipped her arms around him from behind, encouraging him to turn and hold her tight to his chest. His heart hammered against her ear as she closed her eyes and just waited. Waited for him to make a decision. She wasn’t sure at first if he would have the courage, if he would take the leap, but she knew she would catch him if he did.

Finally he drew a shaky breath. ‘Stay,’ he said. ‘Just tonight, please stay.’   



	4. Chapter 4

She stayed, drank more wine, chatted and then when the time came she took the lead. Jenna had gone before him, into the gloom of the bedroom while he had excused himself to the bathroom for a moment. He was leaning over the sink trying to quell the queasy feeling he had. Unfortunately this had the side effect of seeing himself head on in the mirror. He rubbed a hand over his stubble, not enough time to shave. It made him look older. Who was he kidding compared to her he couldn’t get much older.

‘What are you doing?’ he whispered to himself. He looked over his face, at his silver hair and too expressive features, the unruly eyebrows and the wild eyes. He’d never exactly believed himself to have been a catch and now here he was, hurtling towards sixty, skinny, pale, with deep lines and about to sleep with a woman half his age. Not just any woman, a woman so far out of his league she might as well be in space. Jenna was beautiful, fun, clever and young, very young. Not so young that it was impossible but if she was going to go for as silver fox he could imagine better options than him.

This wouldn’t work. He just couldn’t see this happening tonight. This was Jenna. As much as he adored her, perhaps even fantasied about her, she deserved only the best and this, a quickie at the end of two years’ relationship, it could destroy all the other things he loved about them as friends. That was the thing about being older, you’d seen it all before, you knew what was at risk. He didn’t have to sleep with her, but he did have to have her in his life. He wasn’t sure both were an option, he wasn’t sure if he could face the morning after when she packed her things and left. Regardless of her plans to go back to London already being made, he knew it would feel like she was leaving _him._ But what if she really wanted this? What if it would break her heart to say no?

His stomach churned in circles, not helped by wine and lack of food that day.  He felt himself break into a sweat. The warm summer night or his situation he couldn’t tell. He unbuttoned his shirt and put it to one side, catching a glimpse of his pale arms in the mirror. She couldn’t possibly find him attractive. The only advantage was he wasn’t overweight, he did go to the gym, he was reasonably fit. Peter dropped his eyes to his belly. No he wasn’t over weight but he was untoned. Jenna used to tease him and then make him eat custard creams because she knew he loved them. She’d bring them to set each day and warn him he was getting a Biscuit Belly. Steve had banned them eventually, or confiscated them for himself. The memory made Peter smile but he sucked his stomach in overly conscious of the soft bits around his belt line.

It was dark now, not to worry. Not much could be seen in the dark. He took a breath and felt nerves spread all over his body. This was worse than stage fright. Maybe he had totally misinterpreted the whole business. Maybe she just wanted to stay, innocently, and if that was the case he was about to make a dreadful mistake.

But he’d kissed her and she hadn’t pulled away.

She had cried, however and he was getting to the stage he couldn’t tell if that was because he’d kissed her.

The whole thing was a mistake. A woman like Jenna, his best buddy, she didn’t want to sleep with him. He’d go in there and they’d talk long into the night and tease one another and everything would be as it always had been, since the day they met, since the omelettes. Since the day he’d taken one look at her in the flesh and known he could never risk an on screen romance with someone as magnetic as her. He was smitten from the start.

He splashed some water on his face and once dried off left the bathroom. When he pushed open the bed room door he was greeted by the low light of his bedside lamp and Jenna, still in the T Shirt thankfully, sitting up by his pillows. She looped her arms round her knees and rested her chin on them.

Words left him for a moment. He froze awkwardly by the door.

Jenna noticed of course and gave him a sympathetic look, waved him towards her. ‘Hey, all we’ve decided is one night, what we do with it is another matter, I just want to have this time with you.’

Emerging from his frozen state he managed to cross the room and sit on the side of the bed. ‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘This is a bit new to me.’

‘It’s a bit new to me too,’ she remarked, ‘But I think we’ll manage.’ Close up he could see her nerves. The whole business was so odd. Jenna, one of the people in the world he felt most at ease with, and here they both were edging around the hot topic. They were both adults, they knew what this was about, they could make choices and respect others decisions. He felt the muscles in his jaw tense as he thought and frustration build in him. He wouldn’t let this awkwardness detract from their last night in Wales.

‘Oh this is ridiculous,’ Peter said suddenly, standing up. He saw Jenna flinch, ‘Not you, us…’ he reassured, ‘But this, this, tension. We’re sitting here like a couple of fearticats.’

‘I’m not entirely sure what that means but… Ok… I get the drift,’ she gave him wide eyes.

He laughed, ‘Sorry I go a bit native when I’m nervous, it’s a Scots word, literally ‘scared cats.’ But that’s the point… why are we nervous? We know each other inside out.’

‘Hey, who’s nervous, I’m not nervous,’ Jenna held up her hands and tried to look convincing. She failed after a moment. ‘OK I’m really nervous. I want this to be perfect and I know perfect doesn’t happen…’

‘Especially with me,’ he joked.

Jenna shoved him, ‘Stop putting yourself down.’

‘Little difficult in the circumstances,’ he admitted.

‘Why? I adore you, haven’t you noticed?’ she laughed self-consciously. ‘I’ve been worshipping you all year. Whatever happens will be perfect.’

Peter smiled softly and looked to his stripy feet.

‘You should take those off, I did,’ Jenna advised, ‘And the trousers.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Oh?’

‘They’ll get crushed under the covers… or you’ll be too hot overnight.’

He looked at her carefully trying to gauge if she was expecting them to have a sleep over or make love. He still couldn’t quite tell. ‘Trousers off, you say?’

‘Yup,’ Jenna scooted to the other side of the bed leaned back into the pillows, ‘And in case you’re feeling shy, I’m not looking.’

‘That’s probably just as well,’ he said standing and undoing his belt. ‘Not much to see.’

‘You know how to get a girl excited.’

He laughed, ‘Well I don’t expect to compare with your boyfriend. He’s all… well he has muscles, and a six pack probably, I never had one of those even when I was his age. Oh and he played the actual Prince Charming, let’s not forget that.’ His trousers dropped to the floor and he bent to retrieve them just as Jenna spun round. ‘Oi!’ he admonished, ‘You promised.’

‘Peter you’re being daft,’ she said as he stood awkwardly in front of her, cheeks burning. ‘You have a whole host of fans who think you’re a complete heartthrob.’

‘That isn’t me… it’s the character,’ he looked down and realised he still had his silly socks on. He wanted the ground to swallow him.

‘It’s you,’ Jenna was saying, ‘and things like six packs and muscles are secondary to kindness and sensitivity. Trust me. Your face, everything about it, it shows the kindness inside. You’re beautiful and people see that.’

He fidgeted awkwardly at the compliment.

‘Jenna… you and Richard…’

‘We’re not together right now. Six pack couldn’t save the relationship. But kindness can do a lot to draw two people closer. You remember when I had the flu?’

‘Yes.’

‘You looked after me all week.’

‘Nothing else to do, you were holding up the shoot,’ he teased back.

Jenna pulled a face. ‘You’d have done it anyway.’

‘I’m a dad, the dad gene kicked in, makes you care for people automatically. Makes you immune to vomit.’

Jenna laughed. ‘You know how to create a sexy atmosphere don’t you?  Standing there in your socks talking about when I threw up over the bedcovers.’

‘I didn’t mention specifics, and what’s wrong with the socks?’

Jenna pulled back the covers. ‘Will you just get in, socks or not?’

He hovered, unsure, a wave of anxiety coming over him again. God if he even got as far as being in bed with her, he’d be too nervous to be any use. ‘You’re sure…?’

‘Peter!’ she had gone for commanding but it had come out as nervous as his own words. Quickly he slipped under the cover and felt Jenna shuffle closer to him. She lay still for a minute and he listened to her rapid anxious breathing slowly calm. Gradually he adjusted his position so that his arms were around her properly and her head was just under his chin. He was able to drop little kisses into her hair and rub her bare arms. She was warm and incredibly soft and he could feel the swell of her breast against him through her T Shirt. She smelt of something vanilla, or possibly jasmine, one of those feminine things. He moved from tense to comfortable, anxious to mildly aroused and peaceful. The half formed thought flitted through his mind, that this was all he needed, just this time, this closeness.

After a few more minutes Jenna wriggled against him and he realised he and relaxed so much he had closed his eyes and started to drift. He was ‘end of shoot,’ exhausted and no amount of anxiety could stop him from sleeping sometimes. Jenna shifted so she was leaning on her elbows glowering at him comically.

‘Stop sleeping!’ she laughed.

‘Sorry! Sorry! God that’s terrible of me, I’m so sorry,’ he scrabbled to get up but she pushed him back against his pillow. Carefully she wound her limbs around and over his and then laid on top of his chest, her nose touching his briefly before she leaned back to look at him.

‘It’s fine,’ she said gently. She contemplated a moment longer and then seemed to make her own decision. She leaned forward again to capture his lips and he melted under her. Soft and insistent she opened his mouth to her and warmly explored, unhurried and in such a way that each moment might be remembered. He pushed one hand through her beautiful hair and then his other up under her T shirt, allowing himself the prize of touching the delicate swell of her breast.

Jenna moaned slightly and moved against him, but there was no pressing urgency, this level of intimacy seemed enough for now. There was a line drawn between them, whether because of their partners or lack of time he couldn’t tell, he just knew she felt it too. Inside he sensed he had left it too late, that if they came together now it would hurt more to be apart just hours later. That it would be a final rush not worthy of what they meant to one another. It was all or nothing, he would break and so might Jenna if they made love and then went their separate ways. He chastised himself for wasting his week when he could have had days and nights of this intimacy, but then what damage might even more time together have done? Jenna was a danger. A beautiful angelic threat. He knew since they met, she was everything he loved in a woman, from her diminutive proportions to her quick mind and wit. If he allowed himself to fall from the start he had a good idea where he might end up.

So he settled for the gentle rhythm of her kiss and the feel of her body against him but all for just one night.  One limited night which would protect him from too many consequences. He could lie like that with her for hours and be satisfied, and it felt like time was suspended in their room, but the night was really drawing closed and time was betraying them both. Time knew how he really felt, and it was not to be fooled or forgotten. They kissed, and they slept, pretended that it was enough.

In the morning he would find himself tangled in her arms, find his heart was aching as he watched her sleep. In the morning he would realise he should have been braver.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Nothing had changed, he still hated these charity award ceremony type evenings, populated by minor celebrities, dressed in the latest Paul Smith. Nothing had changed, except now he was a major part of it and rather than linger on the outskirts he had to walk the nerve-racking red carpet. People headed for him, cameras flashed, microphones were shoved in his face.  And he wore Paul Smith. Tonight was no exception; a bold checked suit in dark green which apparently brought out the green in his eyes. He’d become part of what he hated or mocked. He couldn’t quite believe it; the curse of celebrity had come upon him.

 Peter laughed to himself, the peculiarity of his circumstances. He was late to the party, not the actual party, but the party of fame. He was in his fifties before anyone really noticed him. Now he’d be snapped on the tube or in Marks and Spencer, and people would squeal in the street if they saw him. It was weird. It was a taste of the rockstar life he had wanted when he was a teen. And it wasn’t so bad really, it was fun a lot of the time, he was just in one of those moods. Unfortunately this mood had lasted since filming ended.

Or not since filming ended, since filming ended with _her._ The gig had lost its sparkle just a little, and then he’d gone on to have surgery and was laid up, ‘mooching’ as Elaine put it round the house, imagining what Jenna was up to on her new production, envying her new colleagues. After the conversation with his wife in the summer, the irony that post surgery he had to sit in his recliner half the day was not lost on him. Elaine offered to mush his food in a blender, and he’d laughed, genuinely laughed for the first time in a long while, but at the same time he could feel a little shard of regret, of missed opportunity, tugging at his heart. He didn’t usually sulk, but he caught himself at it a few times and hated himself for the sudden infusion of negativity he kept feeling. It wasn’t like him at all but he couldn’t shake it.

Now he was hiding, struggling to keep up a cheerful stream of small talk. Usually he could make something of one of these nights with Elaine by his side or on occasion Cissy, who was so incredibly down to earth she could amuse him endlessly with her commentary on the great and good. However tonight he was alone, flying the flag for _Doctor Who_ , doing his bit for the very worthy charities represented. He didn’t mind that, but he did wish it didn’t go on so long.

It was a cold early November night and he had not long had his knee fixed. He looked dapper with a cane he thought, but after a couple of hours he mainly ached. As such his perpetual public goodwill was wearing slightly thin. Not terribly, he could still smile and laugh, sign autographs and be pleasant and friendly, but beneath the surface he was tiring. A Doctor usually had a Companion to share the strain but he was between companions for the moment. He just wasn’t used to doing this sort of thing without Jenna and it felt odd. She’d been there from the start, always, and he wasn’t sure he knew how to do this alone. He retreated out the back of the venue with a glass of lemonade.

Leaning against a wall somewhere between the kitchen door and the bins he propped his bad knee in front of him and rummaged in his pocket for some painkillers. Further down the open gloomy space behind the restaurant he could see other refugees from the charity do smoking and chatting but he stayed put and swallowed his pills. He used to smoke and like many smokers could be caught out by a sudden craving ten years down the line from stopping. He didn’t want to be tempted.

Was it too early to vanish entirely? He thought it probably was. How early would be acceptable? Half ten, perhaps? One more tour of the room and then out. He could not wait to pour himself into a hot bath and try and ease the cramping in his leg. Right, just pull it together for another half hour. He grit his teeth and stepped out from the bins.

Straight into Jenna’s path.

She bumped into him and he immediately stumbled off balance despite her tiny weight. She spilt her drink in an attempt to reach out and grab him and the pair half tripped half fell into the nook by the bins, Jenna against the wall in her party dress and Peter pressed hard against her. She stared up at him in shock.

‘Um… hi,’ she said. He stared at her wide eyed, he hadn’t seen her for a few weeks at least and he sometimes forgot just how beautiful she could look. Chiffon dress, hair piled high, impossible heels and a clutch, she steadied herself on his arm and looked just as surprised. He could feel each breath she took against him.

‘Jenna!’ he pushed himself best he could off the wall but staggered instead against the bin resulting in a gale of good-natured laughter from her. Finally he caught himself, both arms spread against the recycling dumpster. He looked up at her and gave her a slightly ashamed look.

‘Stop flailing about,’ Jenna laughed, ‘here,’ she hunted about on the ground and found his cane, ‘keep your balance with this. How is the knee anyway?’

He was bending double massaging the offending body part when he answered. ‘Fine until tonight,’ he grumbled and then with a twinkle added, ‘Trust you to singlehandedly ruin my surgery. I had to go private you know, next time I’ll give you the bill.’

‘Sorry,’ Jenna giggled. She tilted her head and looked at him, all big bright eyes and shining glossy lips. ‘I didn’t know you’d be here tonight,’ she said, ‘Should have told me. I’ve only just got here; I could have come earlier.’

‘You didn’t miss much,’ he reassured her. ‘What are you doing out here? Have you taken up skulking and smoking?’

Again that laughter that he hadn’t heard nearly enough of. He felt himself warm a little inside.

‘No, just felt a bit woozy. It’s hot in there and they had me standing so long for photos. I thought I was going to faint.’

‘You OK now?’ his alarm seemed to amuse her as he gaped at her.

‘Yeah… yeah,’ she dismissed the concern quickly. ‘It’s freezing out here, its woken me right up.’

Peter straightened up, ‘Richard not with you?’ he queried, wondering why her boyfriend, who was apparently ‘on again,’ hadn’t accompanied her if she felt unwell. He almost immediately regretted asking when he saw the look on her face. He expected her to declare ‘off again’ but instead she batted away the question with a joke.

‘Why? Jealous? Are you going to whisk me away if I’m free?’

He looked at her oddly, and the pause between them became heavy and awkward. Then the words just fell out. ‘Do you want me to?’ he asked.

Jenna hesitated, fiddled with her hand bag, opening and shutting the clutch and then diverting her attention to her hair. She tucked it behind her ears, glanced around her.

‘Jenna?’

‘Don’t you think about it?’  she asked in hushed tones.

‘Think about what?’

‘Evidently not,’ she replied somewhat curtly.

‘Jenna I don’t want to get hold of the wrong end of the stick here…’

‘That night,’ she clarified, ‘Don’t you think about it, don’t you wonder what would have happened if we’d… you know…?’ she made a knowing face at him. ‘Done more than we did?’

Peter used his extra height to peer past her and into the restaurant. There were things he wanted to say, things he’d been thinking about for a long time now but never thought were appropriate. He thought that time was past and he couldn’t reopen the topic, that Jenna had moved on, physically and psychologically. Now she was looking at him with a strange urgency, she wanted the truth, but the place was crawling with journalists. He couldn’t risk it.

‘Not here,’ he said. ‘If you’re tired of the party maybe we could go somewhere…?’

Her face brightened, ‘Where?’ she asked, ‘Do you want me to get a taxi?’ she rummaged in her bag for her phone.

‘Because that doesn’t look odd, ‘I had that Doctor and Clara in the back of my cab, sloping off early together from big celebrity do.’’ His cockney accent was more than convincing and she giggled.

‘Ok somewhere nearby,’ she conceded. Jenna held out her arm, ‘Come on old man, lean on me.’

He glowered at her but only with half a heart. However he did discover he needed a bit of support as they slowly made their way to the nearest all night greasy spoon. Jenna was over the moon at such a venue, something he never really understood, but it had long been a feature of ‘getting a coffee,’ the greasier the spoon the better. The novelty amused her and the place itself seemed to remind her of growing up in Blackpool.

This joint was no different. Populated by a single homeless man at the back and half a dozen formica tables with empty ketchup bottles on them. She insisted on ordering while he sat down, his limp actually noticeable by now. He leaned back in the booth and breathed steadily trying to wish away the pain. His surgeon was going to kill him at his review. When he opened his eyes Jenna was standing over him looking concerned and holding coffee.

He smiled in reassurance. ‘I’m fine.’

‘You always say that. You just keep going through hell and high water and end up damaging yourself,’ she nagged. ‘You didn’t tell anyone for days when you injured it in the first place.’

‘I had Zygons to chase. Anyway I’m behaving this year, the knee has taught me a lesson. Once it heals I’ll be a regular little gym bunny.’

Jenna snorted, ‘Suppose you’ll only be eating wheatgrass too?’

‘Might give that one a miss.’

‘I’m so hungry I might consider the wheatgrass,’ Jenna confessed.

‘Well, get a bacon roll,’

She swallowed a gulp of scalding coffee, ‘Mm-mm can’t…’

‘Why?’

‘Tiny corset to fit into until well into the New Year, period costume is a painful thing.’

‘Jenna you are tiny, please don’t get any tinier because wardrobe demand it.’

‘Says the man who diets every few weeks so he can still fit in his trousers on the show.’

‘That’s different I’m battling middle aged spread,’ he said.

‘Just _middle_ age?’ Jenna said innocently. He pulled a shocked face.

‘Oh how I’ve missed you and your cruel tongue,’ he said. She grinned at him and went back to blowing on her coffee for a moment. He knew which topic came next and both of them were a little nervy about it. He wondered what she had to say, for himself he didn’t know how to put the last few months into words. She’d been tremendously busy with _Victoria_ , and he’d been rather incapacitated. They’d spoken and she sent him her usual barrage of texts daily but now that she was here before him, in the flesh, he didn’t know where he stood.

‘So that night,’ she said at last.

‘Yes,’ he looked into his cup.

‘It meant a lot to me,’ she said.

‘Yes,’ he confessed and agreed.

‘Do you think of it?’ she asked curiously, ‘Do you wonder where it might have gone, where it would go if it happened again? Or do you feel like it drew a line under things?’

He lifted his head carefully to look into her eyes. She was giving nothing away but the fact she’d raised it at all told him what he needed to know.

‘At the time, it drew a line,’ he said and watched the expression on Jenna’s face so subtly fall. No one else would even had noticed but he knew her face so well, every raised eyebrow and curved lip. ‘and then I woke up the next morning,’ he said, ‘and you went back home and that was that.’

Jenna nodded, studied her coffee resolutely. ‘Good,’ she said, ‘I mean we didn’t want to cause any difficulties and it felt right at the time, so it’s good that you…’

‘Jenna,’ he stopped her, took one of her hands across the table. ‘I felt wretched. I thought if I didn’t, if we didn’t make love, I thought it would be simpler… it wasn’t.’

The sound of the clock ticking near the counter of the café was the only noise for a few moments.

‘I miss you so much,’ Jenna confessed. ‘It’s so stupid. I have this amazing new role, with great people. The crew are lovely, my co-stars are great fun. It’s so different from what we did, a real challenge, but that’s what I was looking for so its fine. And meantime I go to these dos and I wear designer clothes and things couldn’t be brighter or better but…’

‘But…?’

‘But I miss you,’ she looked up at him, ‘I miss your stupid jokes and your stories and I miss winding you up, teasing you, playing pranks, laughing. God I miss laughing, just all day and then at the end of it going over to yours for more of the same because I couldn’t get enough of you. You were everything about that job to me, being with you it made me get up on time. Yeah monsters and crazy scripts are great but you kept me going, you made me stay and things now are…they feel…’ she searched for the word. ‘They sort of feel empty when I can’t share it all with you.’

He hadn’t moved at all while she was speaking, he was slightly entranced by what she described, and also slightly afraid. When she finished she blushed a bit and busied herself with her coffee.

He opened his mouth and fought with himself for a moment, but there was nothing else he could say. ‘I miss you too,’ he said. ‘It’s the same for me.’

‘Sorry I realise I sound a bit intense,’ she said.

‘No, you just express it better. But I do, miss you. I’m a bit lost without my companion.’

He felt younger all of a sudden, like he always did when she was there. Jenna smiled at him, expelled a tense breath. ‘We’re on the same page then?’ she said more brightly, ‘We agree. And you sound like you felt like I did after we… after we didn’t? Did you?’

‘You always regret what you don’t do more than what you do,’ he said, thinking back to a conversation he had once had with his wife. Jenna frowned at his thoughtfulness.

‘Do you wish we had?’ she asked straight out.

‘Maybe, I don’t know, maybe its best we didn’t.’

‘Why? I mean I’ve thought that too, but I want to hear your thinking.’

He ran his thumb over her hand as he held it. He could feel the words begging to be said out loud, rushing from his lungs to his mouth. ‘Because I’m already… I already care deeply about you Jenna,’ he said in a quiet voice, ‘it could only make things worse. More complicated. It could cause both of us so much trouble, personally, professionally, it doesn’t bear thinking about. I wouldn’t ever want to do that to you.’

He looked up to see Jenna dialling a number on her phone.

‘Taxi,’ she said by way of explanation.

‘Oh, I… did I say too much?’ he stuttered, ‘You’re going?’

Jenna looked up at him while she waited for the number to ring out.

‘ _We’re_ going,’ she corrected.

‘Where?’

‘Somewhere private, somewhere we can continue this conversation.’ The taxi firm picked up and she gave the address, a couple of streets down from his own new home, Jenna’s house.

‘Jenna I’m not sure this is a good idea, what if I get there and things just, get out of hand?’

Jenna smiled widely and pushed back her chair, he knew she was just playing, but it gave him a little thrill. ‘I’m almost counting on that,’ she teased with a wink.

‘It’s not funny, this is serious.’

‘Exactly, we need to talk it through, because it’s been months Peter, and we still feel just the same. It’s not going away by itself. And besides… no regrets, remember, no ‘I wish I’d done this or that,’ no ‘I wish I‘d been braver.’

Peter stopped what he was doing and stared at her, ‘What did you say?’

It took a second for him to realise she’d given herself away, that Elaine had contacted Jenna, perhaps on more than once to see if Peter was OK, to probe subtly about their relationship. ‘She worries about you, she cares,’ Jenna said softly, ‘And so do I. It’s the main thing we have in common.’


	6. Chapter 6

The taxi pulled up outside of Jenna’s house just before midnight. She hadn’t even realised how quickly time had flown in the café but it was so typical of them, teasing back and forth over the table, swapping gossip and then finally approaching the looming topic of their own feelings, she felt like she’d been there twenty minutes, but when she added in the waiting time for their transport it was closer to an hour. Jenna watched Peter pay the driver and then began climbing the stairs to her door. After just a few she turned back to see him at the bottom, lingering, bracing himself somehow.

‘Oh poor you,’ she said, ‘Stairs being not fun for you currently.’

‘I may need to lie down after this,’ he said painfully.

Jenna couldn’t resist but to raise one eyebrow and he rolled his eyes in response. ‘I’m broken,’ he said, ‘Not up to that. Behave yourself.’

He sighed wearily and then set about climbing the stairs, a flinch of pain in his face with each step. When he came level with her she slipped her hand around his back, more as sympathy than any actual ability to hold him up if he fell. She slowly let him guide the pace until they were at the door and he was leaning against the wall waiting for her to find her keys.

‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘In here somewhere. Ah-ha!’

Jenna opened the door and guided him in, pointed in the direction of a large sofa and watched him collapse onto it with one hand coming to pinch the bridge of his nose. The other was on his knee, squeezing and massaging roughly. She frowned, he wasn’t usually one to be obviously sore or to complain.

‘You OK?’ she asked.

‘Just over done it, only had the surgery two weeks ago, it’s my own fault.’

Jenna approached and carefully sat next to him so as not to jar his leg further. ‘Probably my fault, if you hadn’t bumped into me you’d have taxi’ed home by now instead of walking the streets.’

‘I like walking the streets with you. Relax. Its worth it to see you. Ah!’ Jenna watched as a cramp of pain ran through his thigh muscle and his hand gripped his leg in response.

‘Do you know who you remind me of?’ she asked.

‘Don’t say Gregory House,’ he warned.

She laughed, ‘I think it’s even the same leg.’

‘I’m almost as grumpy these days too,’ he responded, but she could see his smile now under the shadow of his hand. ‘I’m sorry Jenna I’ve been like a bear with a sore head for weeks. I’m being pathetic, I need to snap out of it.’

She tilted her head to look at him, ‘Because of the knee or… Because of me?’ she asked, surprised to find a flutter of excitement in her chest. ‘God I sound egotistical.’

‘Yes,’ he answered honestly, making her smile. ‘But it is because of you. I’ve no right to be all possessive and jealous. I’ve never been that kind of person. I just want to be happy for you, I’m so proud of you,  but…’

‘But?’ she asked curiously.

‘But I’m a fifty seven year old man acting like a stroppy teenager. You’re out of my league and I’m married. I’m twice your age. Those are big reasons to not do what we almost did. I can’t have my cake and…er…eat it.’

Jenna laughed at the innuendo. ‘I guess not.’

He caught her amusement and relaxed further. ‘What I’m trying to say is there was a window of opportunity, I missed it, well we both did but mainly me, it was for the best. I need to believe that, and I just have to live with it. If anything happened now it would be just too complex, too painful. We were practically living together on the show, now we’re, well not virtual strangers but you know what I mean. We won’t run into each other each day. It’s safer.’

Jenna watched his face, open and earnest as he always was with her, handsome, a smattering of beard growth proving he had had a lazy or possibly painful few days at home without shaving. She had spent the same months he had contemplating that night, recognising that at that point it would have been the wrong things to do, to spend a night together making love and then part. Recognising a part of her still wished she had. But her thoughts had gone further than missed opportunities. She disagreed with Peter. In many ways it would be easier now. Easier to keep things secret.

Jenna’s sense of morality had repeatedly stopped her from making plans, her hectic schedule too, but she knew underneath she had been concocting ways of spending time with him. She’d even bought a camera so she could ask for photography advice. Sometimes she felt childish, indulging a crush, but it was so worth it when she saw him, when he made her feel as wonderful as he always did.

If he knew what she was doing when she met him one day in early autumn to ‘practice photography,’ he didn’t let on. He took her out and showed her how to frame scenes, and returned her to his house later for a meal. Elaine was there of course, as welcoming as ever although she made Jenna nervous after the night she spent kissing her husband. Elaine was a confident, intelligent woman with considerable style, but she also possessed a bohemian edge Jenna wasn’t fully aware of at first. They ate, drank, chatted and relaxed. Maybe this could all go smoothly after all. Maybe there was never any need to admit to it.

Then Jenna discovered she knew. Peter was packed off to wash up and Elaine just came out with it, except she thought things had gone further, perhaps happened more than once, and if so she was concerned because Peter was miserable and really that wasn’t the reaction she expected, but he had always denied it so what was going on? It had been intended as a last hurrah; supposed to make him happy and if it didn’t it had to end. Jenna was to tell her, woman to woman. What was happening?

‘Nothing,’ Jenna had said. They’d stopped at a kiss. Elaine double checked, and over coffee she had explained the thing about bravery, not being brave enough to do something you want and the regret later. Peter had fallen at the last hurdle. Perhaps Jenna could do better? Jenna didn’t know what to say and Elaine sat thoughtfully that evening, watching her husband, watching Jenna, taking notes on her mental notepad.

Now Peter was on her sofa, holding his knee, and Elaine’s words from weeks ago were echoing in her head. Maybe she could be brave? But maybe it was too late? No, she wouldn’t listen to that part of her brain. Never too late, not if they really wanted it. Again she hushed her conscience. Jenna decided to scoot up next to him, and once there let her fingers play with a silver kiss curl, fallen over his forehead. He looked up at it, long eyelashes, blue-grey eyes today, so beautiful.

‘I really need a haircut,’ he observed. ‘I always need a haircut.’

‘Don’t you dare, its lovely like this,’ she stroked deeper across his scalp watched him hum pleasantly.

‘So,’ she started uncertainly, ‘What do we do now? We missed the ‘window of opportunity but I think we know we both feel the same. What do you want?’ she felt curiously nervous and it made her sound too staccato, too business-like.

‘You’re asking me now? When you’re doing that to my hair and there’s no-one else here? I’ve only so much will power, Jenna.’ He joked but she just held his gaze.

‘Oh?’ she asked seriously. He shut his eyes again, avoidantly.

‘I think I’m supposed to say something like, it was nice while it lasted, it was a professional friendship and it got a bit intense because of the type of work we were doing, but now we have to leave that behind, move on, be grown up, publically say nice things about each other’s work but never really see one another in case we can’t resist. Something like that.’

‘You’re one of the least grown up people I know,’ Jenna remarked. ’And by the way that would never work.’

‘I’m very grown up I’ll have to know,’ he squinted. ‘I work and pay bills and drink sensibly.’

‘And rock out on the guitar in your trailer, and get excited when special effects come in for the day and blow up aliens, and…’

‘Ok, ok,’ he giggled, ‘It’s a mixture.’

Jenna smiled, her eyes wandering over his face, the crinkles of laughter lines that gave him such warmth, the line of his smile, making her heart ache. Suddenly his head tilted back, muscles in his neck straining and he let out a low growl.

‘Peter?’

He sucked in a breath through his teeth and she looked down to see his fingers digging into his thigh muscle again. She guessed the pain was radiating up his leg from the probably damaged knee repair.

‘Jesus,’ he muttered, ‘OK, that’s quite painful,’ a sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead and he looked a little paler than usual.

‘Do we need to call another cab and take you to hospital?’ she asked, only half joking.

‘That might raise a few eyebrows. Middle of the night and I turn up with my beautiful co-star having sustained an injury.’

‘Shut up, no-one would think that, except you with your apparently filthy mind.’

He snorted and then bit down on his thumb, squeezing his eyes shut. ‘I’m rubbish with pain,’ he mumbled around his hand, ‘Sorry.’

‘Here, let me help, well try to help,’ Jenna moved a little closer and placed her small hands on his thigh, stroking the tense muscle gently and then gradually deepening her movements. She could feel the spasms under her fingertips and chased them up the length of his thigh in a bid to remove them completely. Peter’s own hand fell to one side as she worked and in a few minutes she heard a soft sound from him a little like a moan. It ripped through her body like wildfire and she struggled for a moment with the idea of glancing up at him. Eye contact now would be her undoing.

Curiosity however had a greater pull than embarrassment. She looked up and thanked God his eyes were still shut. His shoulders were pressed into the sofa and there was something tense about his torso, she could see the lines of his abdominal muscles beneath the small soft layer of flesh he worried about so much, and below that, oh, below that.

Jenna’s face flushed at the evidence of his arousal, his response to her hands, and she again fought with an urge to do more. She longed to run her hands up his sides until his face was held between her palms. She longed to kiss him again, languidly as they had that night. And she longed to focus her attention on what she had just found beneath his belt, but was almost certain he would leap a mile in the air if she did.

She tested his boundaries a little and ran her hand further up his thigh, then dipped it slightly between his legs. There was a tiny pant of breath from above her, almost indistinguishable unless you were listening deliberately. She repeated the movement with more pressure and felt his hips wriggle just a touch. She smiled with pride, feeling her heart beating rapidly and the beginnings of her own excitement.

‘Jenna…’ his voice sounded different, deeper and when she looked up his eyes were dark with blown pupils. There was a flush to his cheeks now replacing the pallor pain gave him. He looked dishevelled, long hair and stubble, that slightly crooked smile on his lips. He raised his eyebrows playfully.

‘What are you up to?’ he asked her. ‘This isn’t us being sensible and grown up.’

‘No… but I notice you aren’t stopping me,’ she replied.

‘No,’ he said thoughtfully.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note: Mature content.

There was a moment when she thought he was looking right into her, searching her intentions, or perhaps just trying to make a decision himself. She couldn’t take her eyes from his, tried to lay herself bare for him emotionally so that he might see how much she wanted this. It was late and they were alone and she’d thrown away the rulebook.

‘Jenna,’ he started and she became aware she was holding her breath. He reached around her suddenly, drew her close and encouraged her to straddle his lap. She started giggling.

‘Won’t I hurt your knee?’ she said between soft kisses to her cheek.

‘Endorphins,’ he said, ‘best natural painkillers… Jenna… Oh God I’ve missed you,’

He kissed her full on the lips and she immediately gave into him, angling her hips so that she was pressing against the hard shape in his trousers. She moved steadily, all the while slipping hands under clothing, peeling away his jacket and shirt and allowing herself to feel beneath his T Shirt. He made the most delicious noises, a gasp against her neck as she scratched over his nipple, a high whimper as she pushed harder down onto him. She expected him to stop, think again, but instead he thrust against her with more confidence, kissed with more abandon, open mouthed, wet kisses, his tongue roaming over her skin. At last, something had given way in both of them.

 He flipped her over and pressed her down into the sofa before his warm hands traced the curve of her hips and slipped under her light dress. Jenna’s drew in a breath and waited, her body screaming for him to do what she longed for. She felt his fingers slide under the edge of her knickers and trace over her sex. She moaned in frustration and heard him mumble some type of reassurance before he pushed her open, his fingers lighting over her clitoris and sending a shockwave of need into her centre. He pulled back repeated the motion, stroking and circling, following her response.

She could feel him following her rhythm, pushing down on her with his hips as he stimulated her, his breath becoming more ragged, and she knew he was climbing, even in the restricted space of his clothing. For her own part she was burning, kissing him deeply, rolling her hips more frantically. She was filled with desperate need to touch him and repay what he was doing to her, but she selfishly couldn’t break the contact between them. He felt too good and she was close.

‘Peter,’ she managed and felt him hard against her thigh as he touched her. She took her hands to his waist, undid his belt and pushed back the material. He seemed to buck under her touch and she moved to do the same with his underwear.

‘Jenna, no…’

‘Please…’

‘Doesn’t matter, let me finish you, want to make you happy.’

‘But…’

‘Shh,’ he kissed her again, no more protests, his hands were working magic and his fingers were deep inside her. She felt the heat of her orgasm gathering and any conscious control she had over her body left her. Jenna drove hard against him, kissing him deeply, crying into his mouth. God it had never felt like this, the slow build and then it hit her hard so that she was clinging to him as each wave rushed through her body.

She closed her eyes and floated, aware of some soft kisses at her collarbone and of him straightening the skirt of her dress.

‘Proper gentleman you are,’ she giggled, ‘Putting me back together afterwards.’ She looked up, found him adjusting so that he could lean on his elbows.

‘Yes, well they don’t make them like me anymore, creature from a bygone age,’ he said, ‘We’re out of production.’

Jenna reached up to tidy his damp hair and ran her fingers over his cheek. His eyes were still dark with arousal.

‘Did you…?’ She checked. He immediately blushed, he blushed so easily around her these days. Jenna took it as a no, he still felt tense and she could feel him squirm slightly against her. ‘Why didn’t you let me…?’ she started.

‘I wanted to focus on you,’ he said. Jenna frowned at him.

‘I believe that to a point,’ she said, ‘But…are you having second thoughts? Do you wish we hadn’t done this?’

‘No, no…’ he dismissed the idea, ‘It’s not that, honestly.’

‘Well then can I…? she returned her hands to his waist, slipped them under the material of his boxers and let her fingers grab the waistline ready to remove them. Jenna felt him tense. She returned her gaze to his face, cheeks burning, refusing currently to look at her.

‘You’re shy? You’re shy!’ she said. ‘Don’t be silly! You’ve nothing to be shy of. It’s only me! Oh god is this the ‘your boyfriend has a six pack thing? Just forget that!’ She moved one hand around to the front of his boxers and let it rub once down his length. She smiled as she estimated his size while he tried not to jerk at her touch. He let out a strangled breath and twitched his hips hard.

‘Woah, I thought you were going to come off the sofa there,’ she teased and returned her hand to him, setting her grip firmly around him. He was actually shaking now; deep overstimulated need. She began a slow pace, matching it to his breathing and the subtle movement of his hips, but he was quick to escalate.

‘Were you close before?’ she asked, receiving a nod in reply. She gently pushed him back against the couch and knelt beside him. Again she held the waistband but this time he allowed her to dispose of the boxers, to take him in hand again. She felt him push into her with a certain level of desperation. ‘There, this time it’s going much better,’ she commented and sped up her movements. She leaned on one side of him, her breath in his ear, whispering encouragement, kissing his neck.

 It was not long before he couldn’t contain the sounds which rumbled from his chest and the rapid pant of his breathing. Jenna kept up an increasingly explicit dialogue whispered in his ear and an ever increasing pace. She took each moan as a signal to speed up or change rhythm. Watching his face, eyes tightly shut, cheeks flushed she could see him peaking. She felt the muscles of her arm protest but glancing at him, now was not the time to slow down. She could see the tension in the sinews of his neck, beads of sweat at his temples and the sight sent shivers of desire straight to her core.

‘Oh… God…’ he suddenly muttered with a tone something like panic. Jenna adjusted her grip and held him to her. ‘Oh God, I’m close, I… Jenna…’

She could feel the moisture in her hand and the force of his muscles thrusting into her palm now, he was past the point of no return and then suddenly he stiffened, cried out, fluid spilling over her fingers and him repeating a litany of apology as his body reached the end of his release.

After a moment Peter slumped back so that he was laying on the sofa staring at the ceiling. Jenna turned to join him, leaning on her elbows and subtly trying to reach for the tissues by the couch.

‘How are those endorphins?’ she asked.

He giggled, his face wearing one of those smiles which so often surprised people when he used it. Before the show he was seen as being so serious, frightening even in previous roles, but in reality he was just so funny, so _fun_. He was always smiling.

‘I can’t feel my knee if that’s what you mean?’ he said. Jenna smirked back.

‘Good,’ she said. There was a long pause, Jenna shuffling round to be in his arms as he lay there. Minutes ticked by and at first she could feel him stroking her back gently, then the contact became less. She got the sense he was somewhere else, that his thoughts were drifting.

‘How do you feel?’ she asked eventually, the silence making her skittish.

‘About?’

‘Was this a mistake? Have we overstepped the line?’ she asked bluntly because in truth she was wondering herself, coming down from her high, facing whatever came next.

‘Does it feel like a mistake?’ he asked. There it was, a serious tone in the deep gravel of his voice.

‘I don’t think I’m very objective right now.’

Silence. Jenna felt her heart sink slowly.

‘Elaine gave me permission,’ Peter said from nowhere, ‘A sort of last hurrah while you and I were working together, in that last week… I didn’t go through with it.’

‘I know… she… spoke to me…. We’re not best buddies or anything but you know, she’s mentioned it. At dinner once. The last hurrah. She was surprised I think, that we didn’t.’

‘It was supposed to help close the chapter, give me and you some final happy memories for this whole amazing experience, tidy things up,’ Peter sighed and rubbed two fingers across his forehead. ‘I think… I think maybe we should have gone through with it then, done it then, and not now. I think maybe we’re in a bit of trouble.’

Jenna sat up a little and looked at him her heart suddenly in her mouth. ‘What makes you say that?’

He turned so he could make eye contact, touch her face gently. ‘Because it isn’t about closing a chapter now. It’s just opened a new one.’

‘What do you mean?’ But she knew in her guts what Peter was saying. The feeling was creeping over her too. It wasn’t enough, a quick fumble after a party and then back to their separate lives. After months of missing one another, pining for contact. No it wasn’t enough, and that was where danger lay.

‘I want more,’ Peter said, ‘I know it’s wrong, but I want more. And I don’t think more is an option.’

Was that fear she could feel inside? Was it fear she saw in him? The adrenaline started pumping the moment he said the words and she could tell he was experiencing something similar to her. This was beyond the last hurrah, it was outside of the rules, in a grey area that hadn’t been approved of beforehand. Yes, Elaine had suggested the whole concept, but that was during that last week of the shoot, there were conditions. When she’d openly wondered if Jenna should take the matter in hand herself it was only a couple of weeks since her original suggestion. This was months down the line, she would have no idea what they were doing. Elaine would only think they’d both decided not to and closed the book. Instead they were both betraying her trust, and Jenna could see that Peter was crashing, the endorphin rush well and truly over.

Her heart was really thumping now with the anxiety that they had crossed the line and people could get hurt. Jenna looked at Peter, his brow knitted in thought and his lower lip being chewed almost until it bled. She reached up and rescued it.

‘What am I doing?’ he asked weakly.

‘What are either of us doing?’ she echoed.

He sat up suddenly and rearranged his clothing, fastened buttons and zips, before leaning on his knees. Jenna almost jumped in surprise at the speed with which he put distance between them. It only added to her unease.

‘We can’t do this,’ he said quickly, ‘I’m sorry Jenna, I should have said no from the start, this is all my fault,’ he hid his face in his hands. ‘How could I ever think this was OK? I’ve never… how could I do this now after thirty years? How can anything be worth that sort of betrayal?’

His words were like tiny knives. Jenna sat back as far as she could on the couch, tried to hold herself together as she watched the spectacle of regret before her. She had done that. Her friend, her wonderful friend was mid meltdown about his infidelity, his long successful marriage blighted by this one stupid evening. Her eyes burned with tears which would not be swallowed away. She thought of Richard, on again off again Richard, and how he didn’t deserve this either. All the elation of the last half hour turned sour and crashed down around them.

Peter emerged from behind his hands. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, a little calmer now, ‘But I think we’ve made a terrible mistake. We should be thankful it hasn’t gone further.’

Jenna nodded silently and he caught her expression. She could see he was riddled with guilt not only for Elaine but for her. He reached out for her hand and despite her intentions she took it.

‘I didn’t want to hurt you in all this…’ he said.

‘It’s OK, it was at least fifty percent my decision too. I got myself into it, just like you did,’ if she could just keep her voice emotionless she might survive, but Peter knew her too well.

‘I’ve hurt you,’ he said, aghast, ‘I feel like I’ve used you.’

She shook her head decisively. ‘No, not that, you haven’t. Shit, this is a mess.’

He was shaking, she could feel it in his hand and if truth be told so was she. The adrenaline was leaving now, all they had was the slump afterwards and the dilemma of what was next. Jenna carefully looked up at him.

‘What do we do now?’ she asked.

‘I go home,’

‘And after that?’ she knew what was coming, she knew and she knew he would say it, and it would kill her but she would listen anyway. Listen and agree, because what else could be done?

‘I don’t think,’ he started, clearly struggling with how to phrase it, ‘I don’t think it would be wise for us to spend time together, for a while anyway, and even then… maybe not alone.’

She swallowed, nodded slightly.

‘I don’t trust myself,’ he added, ‘Genuinely, Jenna and that terrifies me. I’ve never wanted to be unfaithful, let alone started down that path. I don’t even know how tonight happened and it doesn’t seem to matter how much I tell myself it was the wrong thing to do, I know deep down that I want to do it again. I’m protesting but the desire is there. I can’t risk it, seeing you I mean. God, I’m so sorry.’

Jenna remained silent for a moment her head spinning. She was aware of time ticking and the inevitable parting coming closer. She could hear his words, understand his rational, but really she just wanted to throw herself into his arms and have him say he’d changed his mind.

‘I don’t think I can imagine life without you now,’ she confessed shakily, ‘Two and a half years we’ve done just about everything together. You’re my best friend.’

He was struggling to keep it together she could see that.

‘I’m sorry Jenna, it has to be like this, it’s for the best. Believe me when I say I wish there was a way round it, but there isn’t, not without hurting a lot of people.’

‘I hate that you’re right all the time,’ she said miserably, going for light relief and failing. She wished she didn’t care about Richard, Elaine, their families and friends, but she did. She couldn’t be that selfish. ‘So, are you…?’

She watched in slow motion horror as he shrugged on his jacket again, stared down at his hands. He looked so pale, so gaunt, like the life-force had been drained from him just by broaching the topic of conversation.

‘I should go now,’ he said. He played with the wedding ring he always wore, perhaps drew strength from it. ‘Yes,’ he said again, ‘I should go.’

Jenna stifled a sob, shuffled closer to him on the couch and put her arms around his neck. She breathed in the scent of him, tried to memorise it for always, lock it away somewhere in the spaces of her mind that were hers only, untouchable and safe; because there wouldn’t be another chance or another time.

He held her for a minute and then she felt him pull away, eyes wet. He kissed her once, quickly, painfully and then left the room, the sound of the front door clicking shut moments later.

Jenna sat alone in her living room. The events of the last few hours seemed too complicated to make sense of now. It was late, and she was tired. Her emotions were upside down, her tears wouldn’t stop. Had they really just parted company like that? Surely tomorrow they would be back to normal, on the phone, meeting for coffee whenever they were in town? You couldn’t stop a friendship like theirs just like that? You couldn’t just walk away.

She looked at her phone and at the battery of texts they shared together since leaving the show. He’d be in touch, she told herself, trying to quell the fluttering anxiety she felt in her chest. He would be in touch, he cared about her, he’d be worried, she’d hear something.

She hugged her knees to her and let the tears fall. He’d be in touch.


	8. Chapter 8

He’d wiped her number from his phone and he couldn’t quite believe he’d had the strength to do that, but the guilt gave him no other option. He had to get out of there as quickly as possible before his will power gave up, so he’d scuttled from Jenna’s home and into the darkness of the November evening. It was beyond freezing now, but he felt he deserved the punishment, even contemplated walking home with only the aid of his cane, but he knew that was just silly. He hailed a cab for the short ride back to his own house.

He still wasn’t used to the new property; it still didn’t feel quite like home. They’d been forced to move from the house they’d owned for a quarter of a century when the local school kids clocked that Doctor Who lived across the road. Now they had this, and lovely it was too. Except of course he was never there because he was always filming and his bare little apartment saw more of him than this place ever would.

His apartment, where until recently he’d spent so much time with Jenna, had so much fun. What in God’s name was he thinking tonight, why had he broken his vows, what was it about that woman that made him feel like he was fifteen again? Like nothing else mattered but making her laugh?

He paid the cab and climbed the stairs, opened the door to find the hall light still on; and the kitchen. His heart sank a little, he wasn’t sure he could handle confessing right away, because confess to her would. Irish -Italian Catholic raised, confession and guilt was in his blood. He couldn’t lie to Elaine, he never had before and he wasn’t about to start. But he did wish he’d had thinking time, processing time. Time to selfishly hurt for a while before speaking with her. He had no right to it, it was pure self-indulgence when he had brought things on himself, but he needed it.

He pushed the kitchen door open. Elaine was at the table with her laptop, apparently working late. He raised an eyebrow.

‘Got to be done by tomorrow,’ she explained, ‘It’s all gone a bit last minute.’

Great, now he would interfere with her deadlines too, he moved to exit and leave her to it.

‘Not going to tell me about the dreadful party?’ she asked cheerfully, ‘I made tea. Of course if it was that bad you might want something stronger.’ She glanced over at him, the picture of everything he had loved about her all these years. Warmth, understanding, openness. He felt like he’d been shot. ‘Pete?’ she asked.

He sat down heavily at the far end of the table and slowly drew in a deep breath.

‘What is it?’ she asked, concern in her voice now. He couldn’t lie, he just couldn’t.

‘Elaine… I…’ how on earth did he start this? ‘After the party I… the thing is, Jenna was there.’

He watched as Elaine’s intelligent eyes betrayed her. She was immediately listening and listening hard at the mention of his old co-star.

‘Jenna?’ she said, her voice as yet emotionless. ‘How was she?’

‘Well, busy, not eating enough but well… we went for a chat.’

‘Good,’ Elaine said warily, ‘Not seeing the problem so far.’

Peter sat back in his chair, exhausted and emotional. ‘You will,’ he said. Elaine poured herself another mug of tea. Her movements had become very precise.

‘I think you need to update me,’ she said. ‘The last I heard you had ended up having a bit of a kiss and a cuddle and then decided to knock it on the head at that. Move on. Close the book. Are you telling me you’ve opened the book again?’

He wished desperately he could say anything other than conformation. ‘Yes,’ he said.

Elaine looked up sharply. ‘Why now?’ she asked, ‘Why at all? You had your chance. We spoke about it, she and I spoke about it and you decided against it. Now months on you’re telling me you’ve started something with her? Or is it a one off? What exactly have you been doing?’ her measured tone failed her and hurt entered her words. Peter recoiled, stung. It was the worst thing ever to hear that in her voice.

‘Well?’ she pushed. ‘More than a kiss and a cuddle this time?’

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘But not… I mean we didn’t go all the way.’ His face burned with shame, he could hardly get the words out.

‘So when have you lined that up for?’ Elaine asked, snapping. Again that shot feeling.

‘What? We haven’t, it’s not going to happen. I regretted it, I think we both did. We’ve decided we won’t be in contact.’

Elaine put her mug down and frowned. ‘Not be in contact?’ she asked, ‘What at all?’

‘Exactly. Look Elaine, I’m so sorry, I made a terrible mistake, I can’t believe what I’ve done…’

Elaine’s demeanour altered slightly into one of an intellectual attempting to grasp a new theory. ‘Why _did_ you do it?’ she asked, a thoughtful expression on her face, more curious than hurt now. Why now when you had the chance then, in the summer?’

‘I… don’t know… I…’

‘Think about it.’  It was a request. Think about it and give her an answer. She was analysing him, he could see it in her face, working him out better than he could himself. He didn’t have a fancy reply, just a gut feeling, just the feeling he had carried with him since the end of the shoot.

‘I missed her,’ he confessed, ‘I supposed I missed her. I know that’s pathetic.  In the summer we hadn’t even finished filming. It didn’t feel real that she would be gone. And then she was and it just seemed to get worse and worse. I didn’t realise how much she… how much I…’ he felt himself on the verge of tears and stopped suddenly. A mixture of the night’s events, hurting Elaine and missing Jenna over the previous months threatened to end him, right there in front of his betrayed but ever beneficent wife. He did not deserve sympathy and he would not look for it, but Elaine, as always was too sharp.

‘You missed her. That much that when you saw her you couldn’t think straight? Big rush of adrenaline and dare I say it, joy.’

He nodded dumbly.

‘And then, what? You get overwhelmed, end up doing something… and you’re just going to hope this goes away?’ she asked, ‘When you know you will bump into one another, maybe even have to work together again now and then, conventions, maybe one off episodes? Won’t you be overwhelmed then?’

‘That’s public, we just keep ourselves in public, it’ll be fine, I’ve learned my lesson.’

‘Have you?’

‘Yes. I felt so awful, for everyone involved. I should never have been tempted. I’m so sorry..’

Elaine blew through her lips and raised her eyebrows at him. ‘You’re right,’ she said, ‘In an ideal world you should never have been tempted, but this isn’t an ideal world. You’re human, so is she, you mistakenly, may I add, turned down the last hurrah and now you’re suffering the fall out. People get tempted Peter, things happen between them, that’s the stuff of life. It’s how you handle it all that matters. You aren’t handling it well. You’re clueless.’

‘Yes I am. Please just… just tell me you hate me or something.’

Elaine laughed, a curious sound of genuine disbelief with a smattering of anger, ‘Not possible. You’re occasionally an idiot but that’s as bad as it gets. And yes I am hurt but for more reasons than you might know. Peter, I sat down and spoke with you about this last summer, and that took a lot. I knew this would happen if I didn’t so I gave you permission, my husband, the man I love, to get this out of your system, and you turned it down.’

‘I thought it would be better that way. I didn’t know I had this much of it _in_ my system.’

‘Why do you think I suggested it then in the first place?’ Elaine said, her voice rising slightly, ‘To nip it all in the bud. It should be done and dusted with by now. I wasn’t sure if it was or not, so then I worried you weren’t telling me everything. That you were lying, which incidentally is worse than plain infidelity. And now I find you didn’t do it and you still pine for her and nothing’s moved on. In fact it’s probably worse. You’re still in a pickle over her, still tormenting yourself, and she can’t move on either… what a mess you’re left with.’ She shook her head angrily, ‘What a mess you’ve left all of us with.’

‘It’s done with, Elaine, I promise. I’ve deleted her number, I won’t be seeing her, it’s over.’

His wife looked at him sadly, her hands wrapped around the heat of her mug. She sighed. ‘The problem is, Pete you never let it get started. You can’t end something that hasn’t even begun properly. She’ll be constantly on your mind now, worse than if nothing at all had happened. If you want my advice…’

‘No, please don’t,’ he said, ‘Please don’t be understanding of it or make suggestions. Don’t help me out of my own mess when I’ve hurt you. I have to do it like this,’ Peter held up his hands, ‘I have to… this isn’t time for open relationships, permitted one offs or relaxed bohemian morality… nor is it time for ‘doing the brave thing,’ when I’m quite clearly fucking it up. I’m fucking it up. I need to _stop_ fucking it up.’

Elaine looked at him with pity. ‘Sometimes you have to do something a little untraditional in order to fix things. You did it for me once when I was hurting over someone,’ she added with a slight pause, ‘And I meant it when I said you and I are unshakable, but you’re doing a good job at complicating it all. Stop. Temptation doesn’t just go away… affection like you two share won’t vanish overnight, or in weeks or even months. I’m hurt, but I know you backwards and stick by what I said in the summer. You need this to happen, you need it to conclude things, to move on, but you won’t let it. I am willing to bet that you will wrestle with this over the next few months and you’ll come to realise that yourself but in the meantime all of us, you, me, Richard, Jenna, we’re all in limbo.’

‘No, Elaine.’

‘When you do finally work it out, you need to tell me, when it happens, and it will, tell me, don’t leave me in the dark again,’ she snapped the laptop shut and rinsed her mug in the sink, ending the conversation. In a few moments she had headed to bed and he prayed she wasn’t just upstairs crying. He felt wretched, he deserved to feel worse.

 Peter remained in the kitchen until he could hardly see for exhaustion. Elaine’s viewpoint plagued him for the rest of the night undermining his vow of no contact already. What if he did just torture himself for months and then bump into Jenna, feeling exactly the same. What if he was that weak? What if he did need this and Elaine was right all along and he was just making things worse for everyone? Delaying the inevitable. His wife was always right; he’d long learned that.

But the angel and the devil on his shoulders continued to fight it out and his old fashioned morality pushed him to stick to his decision. Elaine’s viewpoint, wise as she was, couldn’t be the truth. He had never cheated, never wanted to, wasn’t about to start now. He just had to be strong, loyal, faithful as he had ever been. He’d stick to his vow; stick to his vow if it killed him.


	9. Chapter 9

Ok so this was different. Jenna made her way to the head of the table where a card with her name was marking her place. _‘Jenna Coleman, Queen Victoria.’_ She’d only ever really been the side kick and now she was the star, and every eye was on her as she moved. Her palms were sweaty as she carried her script, the paper would have tell-tale wrinkles later. All actors got nervous, she thought. Even the most experienced and talented. To calm herself she thought back to Peter’s first day and how nervous he had been, standing with her outside the hall where the read through was scheduled. A very different Peter in many ways, short hair, skinnier, yet to really face the media circus, but more prone to nervous chewing of his fingers. She’d swiped his hand from his mouth and told him off.

‘Sorry,’ he mumbled.

‘You’ll be fine,’ Jenna said, standing on tip toes to peer through the high windows on the doors. ‘This is your big moment.’

‘How many in there?’ he asked, pacing behind her. He had on the black jumper with holes that he would later integrate into his wardrobe for the Doctor. The sleeves were pulled over his hands as though he was cold and he’d gone back to nibbling his thumb. Jenna swiped his hand away again, looked and calculated there must have been around two hundred people seated and standing, waiting for him.

‘Lots,’ she said vaguely, ‘Will you stop doing that?’

‘Can’t. Terrified.’

‘What’s there to be scared of? You’ve been practicing for Doctor Who since you were six.’

He stopped his pacing and looked at her. Huge earnest blue eyes desperately seeking reassurance. ‘Exactly,’ he said, ‘Fifty years practice. What if I still can’t get it right?’

Jenna had tilted her head and taken his hand in hers, rubbing it soothingly. ‘You’re going to be fine,’ she said, ‘You were born to do it.’

Jenna sat at the table and looked down at the card marked ‘ _Queen Victoria._ ’ She unpacked her little bag and placed a water bottle on one side and her script centrally. She adjusted it, wiped her hands on her jeans, put her iphone on the table on silent. A minute or so went by and she shifted in her seat. The other cast members were filing in, taking their places. Dozens of crew lining up on the far side, smiling at her, waving. She was the focus of all things and she suddenly felt a little panic. A little excitement too, but definitely panic. What if she couldn’t do this? What if her accent let her down, or she couldn’t suffer the blue contacts or she got suddenly fat and couldn’t fit into the corset anymore?

The screen of her phone flashed and a message popped up. Peter. She smiled and opened it to read. ‘You’re going to be fine; born to do it.’ So thoughtful, she almost cried.

 

They filmed for eight months and early on after the night of the party Peter had taken the decision not to contact her, a decision which left a void in everything she did. Jenna was finding it odd enough not having him there by her side each day as he had been for two years, but now the phone was silent and her inbox empty and she had no-one to text private jokes or gossip to. More and more they had been seen to be an old married couple by those around them, now they’d be wrenched apart. She knew it was their own fault, but she wished it didn’t have to be the way it was.

Eventually she stopped expecting the screen to flash, but still she couldn’t completely let go. Each day she went about the job, make up on, period costume skirts heavy around her waist, annoying blue contacts making her eyes itch. Every day she carried her iphone, in her bag or tucked in the folds of her dress. She thought of writing a book; one hundred and one places to hide an iphone on set. 

No-one would have realised how she felt, she thought. She was incredibly good at keeping up a façade if it was needed, only those closest to her would see something wrong in her eyes and she was too busy to see family and friends. Her director praised her highly as did the cast. She was bright and amiable, never a bad word. As Queen Victoria she was crowned and then married in the lavish production and she bore all the weight of the lead. She was professional, lines always learned, marks always met, filming late into the evening if needs be. Jenna was the picture of a lead actress, gracious, intelligent, beautiful and blessed with the kind of stamina needed to get through an eighteen hour day.

She missed the double act. She missed the intimacy and support. She missed him telling her just how impressed he’d been with a scene or an idea, she had lived on his praise sometimes, wanted to please, and learned so much. It was because of him she had grown in confidence, thrown odd ideas into the mix and made things work. He wasn’t there to talk to at the end of the day and she missed him.

She just couldn’t shift the feeling of loneliness. She had plenty of co-stars but no single person who was with her day in day out the way she had been with Peter. No one who kept her going when fatigue kicked in, or brought her a bacon roll off the catering trolley. Not that she could squeeze one of those in without being glared at by wardrobe.

As time went by they broke for Christmas and she went to see friends, Richard staying with family. The season passed in a blur, going through the motions over dinner and mucking about in the snow. When she got back to her house, dark and cold, there was a card and a tiny box on the welcome mat. A simple ‘merry christmas’ signed by Peter. She analysed what he had written but there was so little of it to begin with. She noted he didn’t sign it ‘with love’ or anything as emotive.

Jenna put it to one side and opened the box. Inside a little pendant, studded with sapphires, her very own TARDIS. She’d seen similar but this looked different, chunkier, and on inspection she found the doors opened to find a place for a picture. He hadn’t been presumptive enough to put himself in there, though of course that’s who should be in a TARDIS. He didn’t have the confidence or vanity to assume that’s what she would want. She made a note to find a picture of them together and shrink it enough to fit.

The cast and crew came together again in the New Year and the hectic schedule resumed. She kept herself occupied deliberately at all times and Jenna had thought she would be so busy she would think of Peter less, but in fact the contrast of environments, Westminster Abbey versus a Space Restaurant, made her think of him more. Him and the stolen hours they had spent at her house that night that had so poisoned things for them. Sometimes she would tangled her hands in her hair and want to scream for the mistake they had made and the friendship she had lost.

By spring the ongoing silence from the phone surprised her, she felt sure he would eventually be in touch, apologising and trying to repair their friendship. One night couldn’t really break them could it? But maybe he really didn’t trust himself. Maybe Elaine had found out and taken things badly. When Jenna thought of that she was hit by a strange mix of feelings, guilt being the strongest, but also shame. Shame that it made her think that if Elaine was angry enough, maybe Peter would be pushed in her direction, maybe he would seek comfort with her.

No. She couldn’t think like that. She had no right. Her mood was down and it was loneliness and boredom speaking in between takes, sitting alone in a trailer in front of the mirror. She checked the even line of her hair, pinned back, a rich dark brown that gleamed. She smoothed her eyebrows, plucked a stray hair and stared into her blue eyes. Unrecognisable. So different from the young woman who had joined Doctor Who all little skirts and big brown eyes. No more soaps or family telly, this was ‘proper acting’ according to Peter. The kind of production that would be nominated for BAFTAs and launch careers skywards. She’d felt a bit daunted when he’d told her that and he’d spent the next few minutes soothing her and lavishing her with praise for her talent. He always knew how to make her feel better.

She wished he was there or that at the least she was at BBC Wales. It could be such a silly job sometimes and she missed it, the daft things they all did. She pined for it a little. No more chasing aliens in the carpark. She opened the screen of her phone and flipped through old photographs. Her and Peter in the carpark outside the studio with two Zygons. Another with daleks. Peter driving  Davros’ chair round the set. She had a video of that one somewhere, watching him crash into walls. She giggled to herself and then almost immediately felt the emotion travel to her throat, her eyes, try to choke her with sadness.

Slowly she scrolled through the other shots, shots taken in private away from the crew. The two of them in his trailer eating Chinese and rehearsing, pausing for a selfie she’d insisted on. Another of him playing the guitar, unaware she was watching. A shot of him washing up cups. Washing up cups, wiping down counters, the chores always amused her. He was Doctor Who, surely he didn’t have to use _Fairy Liquid_? He did ironing too. A fact which cracked her up when she’d called round one Sunday to find him ironing a shirt. Was it a sonic iron? she had asked. He’d sprayed her with water from the water dispenser meant for the shirt. They could be such children. They laughed all the time.

Jenna closed the gallery and was about to put the phone down when she spotted the voicemail symbol. The number was withheld. Despite herself she always dared to hope when she had an unexpected or anonymous call. One day it had to be him, right? Nine times out of ten it was PPI but maybe one day he’d call. She dialled the code and listened.

It was her agent and she almost immediately lost interest, she was more or less booked for the year and to be honest she could do with a break after _Victoria_. Out of courtesy though she listened as her agent circumnavigated the actual topic. Clearly whatever it was needed a build-up which told her it was probably a rubbish offer but her agent had a vested interest in it and really wanted her involvement. She hated those sorts of conversations.

And then she heard the word ‘convention.’ Jenna looked up into the mirror again as she listened to the details, three days in the states, three different venues, likely thousands of fans and lots of other big names. She listened harder. Michelle was going for one, she was great fun. But there was a dedicated Doctor Who element to the con and really they’d like to get all three leads from series nine.

Jenna swallowed. ‘Please,’ she whispered before she’d even realised, as though the voice mail could detect any urgency in her voice. It finally responded with the agent’s ‘Peter is undecided.’

Undecided. He was undecided. Jenna hung up and tapped the dressing table. Should she leave it at that or pursue it? Was he waiting for her decision the way she was waiting for his? They could both end up missing out if one of them didn’t make a move. Surely they could be adults now, get their friendship back on track? Especially at a convention with Michelle there too, she could sell her as a chaperone if he protested, and Elaine usually went to these things too.

She practiced saying it in her head, ‘Peter, we’ll be fine because…’ Wait. Why did she feel she had to make so many concessions or reasons why it would be OK? This was getting silly. The last few months of empty silent airtime suddenly gave way, she had to know if he was going, she ahd to be in touch again even if it was just one phonecall. The phone actually shook a little in her hand as she flipped through ‘contacts.’ Do it, do it.

She sent a text.

_Are you going to the US convention?_

Her courage immediately failed her. She sat looking at the phone. Peter was useless at replying and probably wouldn’t make a stab at it for at least an hour, that’s if he wanted to reply to her at all. She’d be nervous all day. Then the phone flashed.

_Who is this?_

Jenna’s eyes widened. She grabbed the iphone. ‘What?’ she frowned.

_What do you mean who is this? It’s me. Jen_

Nothing. She fiddled with her hair and nails. Flicked idly through the script on the dresser. Ten minutes passed. Jesus he wasn’t going to reply now because he knew it was her.

_I deleted your number. Sorry._

It felt like someone was taking all the air from her. He’d deleted her number, probably all her texts, all the evidence they’d been close. Maybe all the photos on his phone. He’d really meant everything he’d said about making a mistake. Jenna drew a breath and tried to steady her hands enough to reply. She had to respect his choice, for him, for his family. She had to.

_Oh, I see. I should have realised. Sorry to bother you._

A long pause again, he either wasn’t speaking to her or…

 _Sometimes I wish I hadn’t,_ he confessed. _Wanted to contact you but_ _cut off my nose a bit when I deleted you. What about you?_

She frowned. _I didn’t cut off my nose? I never deleted you. I couldn’t._

_No, are you going? In the summer? To the states?_

Her fingers hovered over the type-pad. She could always make an excuse later if needs be.

 _Yes,_ she spelled. _They want you there too._  And then. _So do I._

Another pause. She could feel him deliberating and guiltily began willing him to agree, but he’d been out of contact so long she realised, his feelings could be very different. The intensity could have passed and everything could have changed. Her admission she wanted him to go might be completely the wrong thing to say. But it was the truth. The phone flashed.

_Could be fun. Agent said Michelle going too._

_So?_

_So, yes,_ he answered.

Jenna grinned and felt a little buzz of joy run through her which made her feel about fourteen. She was going to see him. Even if it was all in public, even if it was all autographs and photos and panels. She got to hang out with her friend again and maybe repair that friendship, maybe smooth things over with Elaine too, apologise, fix things and get a taste of her old life in the process. Just as she had hoped.

 _Thank you,_ she wrote, _you don’t know what it means to me._

He replied with an emoji but as usual got the wrong one picking the angel when he was doubtless going for the cool smiley with shades, or a thumbs up, or god help her a heart.

 _Still useless with texts I see,_ she mocked.

_Well if you’re free I could just call? Talking out loud is an underrated method of communication these days. You youngsters don’t know what you’re missing. Or how long that took to type._

Jenna felt the first signs of them falling into an old familiar rhythm begin again. Constantly teasing and mocking. Constant banter.

 _I don’t know if I am free, very busy, I’m a Queen these days, very important, very…_ CALL ME :-D

In a moment the phone began flashing, a photograph of herself with Peter one summer’s day on the world tour in the centre of the screen. She hit answer quickly and settled back into her chair.

‘Peter?’ she said, suddenly realising she might cry if she wasn’t careful.

‘Jenna,’ his voice sounded relieved, ‘I can’t begin to tell you how much I’ve missed you.’

She smiled, looked up at the dresser; recognised the girl in the mirror at last.


	10. Chapter 10

Three days, that equated to not a huge amount of luggage. Jenna would probably have oodles of it, dresses and day time outfits and goodness knows what make up and styling tools she’d need. Peter folded a dark t-shirt and packed it carefully along with a pair of black jeans. He was grateful for being a man and surviving on last minute packing. Just a couple of pairs of socks and some underwear and he’d be set.

He wandered into the bathroom to pick up some aftershave and his toothbrush, glancing over Elaine’s side of the sink, still cluttered with her favourite creams and perfumes. Peter frowned, he hadn’t seen her pack come to think of it, but then again she was organised and probably did it days ago when he was at some function or other. She used to pack for him too until he convinced her he was a responsible adult. She still kept a wary eye.

Back to the bedroom, dropping a smattering of final objects into the case and zipping it shut. Didn’t even need to sit on it, success as far as he was concerned. He checked his watch, taxi in a few minutes. Then Peter felt the butterflies start in his stomach and realised anyone else might think it was the prospect of the evening’s flight, or even the convention itself but he knew himself so much better and he tried hard to rein it in. Stop thinking, stop thinking, but her face kept drifting into his mind.

It was Jenna; Jenna making him nervy like a teenage boy on a date. He hadn’t seen her for months but they’d started talking again. Texts during breaks on set from her end, phonecalls back and forth when there was time. It was rare a day went by now when he didn’t hear her voice and catch up with her movements and he got a warm feeling each time a message came through. If he was honest, the little interactions served as the highlights of his days while he was on hiatus. He would sit in his studio, playing or painting, staying private from his family and smile every time the phone went. He’d had to take a charger down there because the battery kept dying. Deep down he knew this wasn’t just ‘friendship,’ but he got so much from it, felt so good he couldn’t admit to himself that it needed to stop.

The days had counted down. He’d only just managed not to mark it off on his calendar, like a countdown to Christmas, but instead he had a countdown on his phone. Jenna and Peter had both been looking forward to this trip, to some time to sit face to face and talk. He told himself it would allow him to prove that he had moved on, that his feelings for her had settled and all was well again. Technically he’d broken his vow of no communication but surely this was the more sensible adult approach. Instead of avoidance, adaptation. He’d read it was a better method of dealing with relationships in a book he found on Elaine’s bedside cabinet. He was fairly sure she’d left it there for him.

He trotted downstairs with his case and deposited it in the hall, popping his head into the living room to find Elaine. She was curled in the armchair reading a magazine, TV on in the background showing the news. Peter stopped and pulled a bit of a face, pointed at her with one hand.

‘Um. You know the taxi is coming.’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Have you packed?’ he asked.

‘Nope,’ she said cheerfully. She turned a page of her magazine and then looked up. ‘I’m not going.’

Peter’s shock registered all over his face, he felt lead spill into his guts. Oh God, what was wrong? ‘What? Why not?’ he said hurriedly. ‘You always come along, I don’t understand.’

‘I just think I’ll stay home this time is all, I’ve done a lot of these things and to be fair I’m not actually the star. You are, and Michelle and the others.’

She held his eye easily, appeared perfectly open but the worry had set in now and he had to ask. ‘Oh God, this is Jenna isn’t it. You’re worried about her being there, you don’t want to see us… I don’t know… together?’

Elaine got up slowly and crossed the room. She put her hands on his arms soothingly. ‘Relax. It’s a mix of reasons. You’re going to be run off your feet for one thing. Three days, three cities. No time for site-seeing or possibly even food. I don’t fancy sitting in the halls watching you sign all day.’

Peter breathed a slight sigh of relief, ‘That’s all, no concerns about anything else?’

She shook her head and he breathed out. ‘Ok, fair enough.’

‘And yes Jenna will me there,’ she added, alarming him again. He stared at her. ‘And that’s OK, I trust you. I know you’re in contact again, I know how close you are, you talk every day.’

‘Elaine, things have changed. I mean I know I’m looking forward to seeing her but…’

‘Looking forward to it? You’re over the moon, you can’t hide it and that’s fine. Things have altered between you, I daresay that feeling of loss, missing her is different now.’

Peter considered what she was saying. ‘Yes,’ he admitted, ‘It’s less… I don’t know… less acute. Less painful. She’s got her life and things she needs to do. I’m about to go back to Wales and things there will be different too. Hopefully different enough I don’t start pining again. I don’t know what got into me, I’m sorry.’

‘I think you were grieving a bit, your best friend ripped away from you, that sort of thing,’ Elaine said.

He smiled at her, then leaned forward to kiss her forehead. ‘I think you’re right. It’s easier now. I was largely just being artistic and pathetic. And I _am_ excited to see her and catch up properly but it won’t go further than that. I promise.’ He didn’t sound convincing to himself but he quashed the doubts.

Elaine looked up at him curiously. ‘Never say never,’ she said.

‘Elaine,’ he said wearily, ‘No, not after last time, not after all the hurt it caused.’

‘I’m just saying,’ she offered, ‘Never say never. Perhaps last summer wasn’t the right time. Perhaps this is now that all those intense emotions are calmer. You’ll know when you get there I’m sure.’

‘Elaine!’

She stood on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. ‘A one off, a last hurrah,’ He rolled his eyes at her but she carried on regardless, ‘Same rules apply. One, if it happens it happens this weekend, and two you tell me afterwards.’

‘Elaine I can’t believe we’re even talking about this when I haven’t even seen her for months. There’s no need, really…’

The sound of the taxi horn blared outside and interrupted him. Elaine raised her eyebrows playfully and turned him on the spot, propelled him out the door to collect his case. She tidied his lapel as he slipped his jacket on and wiped her lipstick from the corner of his mouth. He studied her eyes trying to work out what she was thinking but as ever was slightly stumped. Her smile seemed genuine enough in that it travelled to her crow’s feet dimpled her cheek. Was she deliberately setting them up? He frowned as he looked down at her.

‘Have a good time,’ she said as the horn blared again. He would have to work it out later, maybe ask Jenna if Elaine had been in touch.

In the taxi the driver instantly recognised him and quizzed him about the next series. Had they started it yet? Did it have an overall arc? Were the daleks featuring? Peter let him prattle on, his mind elsewhere.

 ‘Oh and what about that Clara?’ he said as they waited at yet another set of lights. Peter’s attention snapped back again, and he noticed the little TARDIS hanging as an airfreshener from the driver’s mirror. ‘She’s lovely isn’t she? She coming back? I mean technically she’s immortal so she could come back any time…’

‘I really couldn’t say,’ he dodged.

‘No, course not,’ the driver tapped his nose and tipped his head back to wink into the driver’s mirror. The TARDIS swung back and forth. ‘But it would be a nice one off wouldn’t it, just once. I mean her and the Doctor, well it didn’t matter how the show tried to set it up but they were in love for sure.’

‘There was no romance….’ Peter started.

A  guffaw of laughter form in front of him, ‘No romance? Don’t give me that, they died for each other. That wall thing you were hitting all that time. It don’t get more romantic. They loved one another.’

‘It was a… special type of relationship,’ Peter said, ‘Not really definable by human standards. A one off.’

‘yeah well even if it was a ‘special relationship,’ he mocked, ‘He’d have to see her one last time wouldn’t he? I mean before he regenerates or before she has to go back to Trap Street with that Raven thing. One last time together is what they deserve after all that.’

Peter stared at the back of the man’s head wondering how he’d managed to land a die hard fan on his way to Heathrow, ‘You’re um… very knowledgeable,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t really expecting…’

‘An interrogation? Oh don’t mind me, sorry, I must sound like a loony tunes fan. But I’ve got a daughter, fifteen, broke her heart that whole business. Made me watch it with her, handing her tissues I was. I got into it though, never really watched before, but it had me hooked. Now I’m a huge fan. Helps that that Clara’s so pretty eh? Well you’ll know that yourself. Lovely girl. Lovely. What’s she like?’

‘She’s… she’s perfect,’ Peter said quietly. ‘I mean very talented.’

‘Oh that she is,’ the driver agreed.

He burbled on while Peter watched London pass by the windows of the cab. Soon he’d be on the motorway and making for Heathrow and the thought made his heartbeat treble. Jenna would be there, waiting, they had seats in the same aisle and now that Elaine had dropped out of hers they could sit even closer and talk all the way to the states. They’d be awake all night probably, never were much good at stopping and sleeping. He caught himself smiling hard and had to cover his mouth with one hand to prevent it breaking into a grin. Nervous, smiling, smiling, nervous. He didn’t know how to feel.

It didn’t help that his phone went off at random intervals as he travelled. Increasingly excitable messages from Jenna pouring in with a flurry of untranslatable emojis.

 _Where are you? (_ Small girl with tiara)

 _We should have got the same train, I’m at Heathrow already._ (airplane)

 _Hurry up this is boring without you!!_ (weeping smiley face)

His nervous energy was unbearable by the time he arrived at the airport and somehow wound his way to the correct terminal. Here he kept his head down as much as possible, knowing that not only did the public want an autograph but the press hung about in banks waiting for unsuspecting celebrities. Normally he wouldn’t mind too much but this evening he felt the pressing need to just get there, meet her and calm down. He knew they were solid friends but he worried about that frisson between them and the problems it had caused before. He wanted to test the waters, reassure himself all was well. The more he thought about it the more he wondered if Elaine knew something he didn’t and that maybe he was completely kidding himself. He even suspected the taxi driver with his not very subtle subliminal messages about Clara and the Doctor.

‘Paranoid,’ he told himself. ‘I can deal with this, just Jenna, just friends.’

Various processes and checks later he’d officially checked in and was about to push open the door to the first class lounge when he heard someone call his name over the bustle of the terminal. He turned slightly to scan the crowd for anyone dressed as a dalek, or a cyberman or Clara Oswald; fans came in all shapes and sizes.

It turned out it Clara Oswald, or close enough, Clara without the costume. His face brightened at the sight of her coming through the crowd. She lifted one hand and waved to make sure she’d fixed his attention and he smiled widely. In a moment he could see that she had picked up pace a little and was calling his name again, laughing and giggling in between. She looked just the same, just as wonderful and he felt the tentatively healed scars on his heart rip straight open again with a rush of emotion. Without thinking he ran forward and picked her up to spin her in his arms. She responded immediately, pressed tight against him, a bundle of perfection as far as he was concerned; light, soft and perfumed. He breathed her in, kissed her cheek.

‘Jenna!’

She kissed his cheek back enthusiastically and squeezed his neck, ‘Peter! This is so exciting, are you excited? I can’t wait!’

Slowly he let her slide down his body until she was safely on the ground. She looked up at him absolutely beaming, huge brown eyes on the verge of tears but he beautiful lips only smiling. She was as flawless as ever, dressed in a simple light top and jeans. He noted the sensible shoes, Jenna was in travelling mode. He ran a hand through his hair, a sudden wave of nerves hitting him.

‘God, Jenna, I don’t know what to say, I mean it’s been, how long…’

‘Well only about half an hour since I text you,’ she prodded his stomach, ‘Don’t get all serious on me. Everything is fine. Grown ups, on a flight to a convention. Anyway we have a chaperone right?’

‘Ah… about that.’

Jenna looked at him curiously and then glanced round the immediate area. ‘Elaine is here, right?’

Peter shook his head. ‘Didn’t think it was worth it, tight schedule, no time to look round. She’s at home. It’ll be us and Michelle… who is pleasantly bonkers and I don’t think qualifies as a chaperone.’

Jenna’s big smile wavered just a little. ‘Well that’s fine,’ she said, keeping her voice light. Like I said, grown ups, nothing to worry about. This is work and we just need to be professional.’

‘Yes,’ he agreed. The pair stood looking at each other for a moment and he could have sworn he saw Jenna’s anxiety rise with each passing second. For his part his stomach was churning too. She was beautiful, his heart was pounding, in his mind he could taste her kiss and replay moments from that night he had promised to forget. It was all flooding back. He watched Jenna fidget.

‘So, I was about to head into first class and wait,’ he said.

‘Good plan,’ she agreed. They hesitated a second longer, pondering just how hard it was going to be to remain professional.

‘Is there a bar?’ Jenna asked.


	11. Chapter 11

Jenna made her way through the terminal with her hand luggage and a sense of self consciousness. He was here somewhere by now, she was sure and she didn’t want to be caught off guard. She needed to act cool, not get hysterical over seeing him again, just be her usual friendly self. No going overboard and definitely no crying. She had it all planned out in her head; the smooth walk towards him, head tilted slightly, small but friendly smile. She’d hold out one arm as an encouragement to him to hug and greet her but with clear boundaries drawn. A kiss on both cheeks. No flinging her arms around him or squeaking as she sometimes did when she got overexcited.

She bumped into someone going the opposite direction and was momentarily distracted by them asking for an autograph and a selfie, but Jenna could do those in her sleep now, so she was quickly back on track. Smooth walk. Kiss on both cheeks. Focus. She counted out her steps and looked around her.

The disadvantage of being five foot two was not being able to see very well through crowds, so it was all of a sudden as a wave of people parted, that she saw Peter, clearly on his way to first class. Now that she’d spotted him she didn’t want him to escape and need to be found again, so she called his name, projecting above the throng that milled around her.

‘Peter!’ he turned and clapped eyes on her, his face at first puzzled, then splitting into a huge smile. She knew he struggled a bit without his glasses so he had to squint in her direction to ascertain her identity as the genuine article and not a cosplayer. She tried to remember to look cool, but that smile was the undoing of her, the way it lit his face and eyes, the genuine affection behind it. It made her heart skip and her palms sweat to see him again. She called his name one more time and raised her hand.

 ‘Peter!’ He turned to face her fully now, certain it was her, rejecting first class and looking for all the world like he was going to pop with joy. Peter was excitable at the best of times but she could practically see him fizz with anticipation. She’d missed him so much. She’d missed that enthusiasm and tireless energy.

Oh sod this, sod walking calmly through the terminal. She began trotting towards him and was surprised to see him apparently doing the same thing. In a rush she dropped her luggage while he bent at the knee and she was swept up in his arms, pressed against his chest, spinning through the air. He smelt of his usual citrus aftershave and his face was smooth. She kissed him and received a kiss back, restrained, on the cheeks, and she squeezed him tight. Joy. Complete joy at seeing him again. Her skin tingled and her heart thumped and she heard him call out her name in greeting and then softly repeat it in her ear. She felt secure in his embrace and somehow centred for the first time in months. Not for the first time she wished she could carry a pocket Peter with her everywhere.

Slowly he lowered her safely to the ground and she felt herself well up. She longed to touch his face again, ruffle his hair, hold his hand; something which had never previously been a problem but which now he might misinterpret. So Jenna stopped herself, and looked for Elaine. When she wasn’t in sight she asked him.

‘Ah… about that,’ he said and explained.

Elaine wasn’t there and there was no sign of Michelle as yet. These were spanners in the works, unseen issues that she was certain left them a little more vulnerable to taking the wrong path. Morally and intellectually she just wanted to repair their friendship, but she was so aware of how she felt beneath the layers of rationalisation she had been laying down over the previous months to try and cut her true feelings at the root. Layers that read ‘Peter is married,’ and ‘Elaine is a good woman,’ as well as ‘publicity wise it would be a disaster.’

Peter just looked excited but it could be deceptive. Jenna looked into his smiling eyes and wondered if he felt the same, if he was trying the same techniques to ignore those unwanted feelings. When he scratched his fingers through his hair, his second most nervous tell, she knew he probably was. His eye contact flitted as they spoke, drawn to her lips then guiltily looking back at her eyes. Jenna felt a buzz of potential, that old attraction rearing up and immediately squashed it down. Grown ups; that’s what they would be.

‘This is work… We just need to be professional,’ she finished saying.

Peter looked at her like she’d gone insane. They’d never been professional. They never got any work done on set without being physically separated. All they did was practice impressions and muck about and eat too much and now she could add to that list ‘make out’ and ‘fantasise about one another.’

She realised too late her fretting and fidgeting had been noticed. That her apparent confidence was a lie.

‘Is there a bar?’ she said.

Peter looked at her with surprise, ‘Not like you to start this early in the day, or to start at all actually? Is this a new thing, something I’ve missed?’

‘No,’ she laughed, ‘No I’ve not hit the bottle yet. Just a glass of something, help us relax. We’re both a bit tense, you know, given the things that happened between us last time. It’ll be fine, really fine, but I need to calm my nerves.’

He laughed next to her, stepping through the door to first class, ‘I hear that, my stomach is on a rollercoaster. I haven’t been so nervous in months.’

‘Come on then. Come and hang out with me. Friends?’

‘Friends,’ he smiled and let her through the doors to the first class lounge ahead of him. She felt gratitude to have him near again, a friend, but as they made their way to the bar Jenna could feel the weight of his gaze on her back, could practically feel his eyes wandering down over her figure in a most un-Peter like way. He was too much of a gentleman to openly ogle women and she wondered if he was aware he was doing it with her. She turned and looked at him only for him to blush and look away before grasping the opportunity to point out a seat for them and go to the bar to order.

Jenna sat and watched him from a distance, the bar was reasonably busy and she had a few minutes to observe him. He was different somehow and she struggled to put her finger on it. Same bushy wild silver hair, same unruly eyebrows and sparkling eyes. He was handsome as ever, tall, elegantly dressed. Perhaps it was something harder to see like a subtle change in the way he carried himself, his confidence or self-esteem. She remembered how he had grown in self-assurance over the course of the world tour.

It would come to her later she suspected and fiddled with a straw on the table. She kept glancing up to see him, unable to just wait. It had been so long and she wanted him back at the table, now, to talk and laugh and tell jokes as they waited for the flight. She wanted to look into his eyes and see that smile. She wanted to hear that laugh up close, that silly high pitched giggle that sometimes escaped him. She watched him take his jacket off as he leaned on the bar, the room too warm even with air conditioner, and frowned as she looked. Something had altered. The penny dropped and her eyebrows raised. So _that’s_ what was different.

Peter rejoined her minutes later, passing her her drink and scooting his chair a little closer to her so he could hear properly in the bar. Jenna sipped through the bendy ‘holiday’ straw Heathrow had chosen to provide.

‘So…’ she mused, trying hard not to laugh. ‘Want to tell me what you’ve been up to?’

He looked at her oddly, ‘What? You mostly know, we speak nearly every day.’

‘Yes, but there are some things I’ve only just noticed now you’re here _in the flesh_. No pun intended.’

Peter snorted, ‘What are you on about? Weirdo. Come on just spit it out, Jen.’

‘This!’ she gestured to his torso, ‘What’s going on with this? It wasn’t like that before. You had a little tummy and…’

He was laughing beside her now, ‘And noodles for arms?’ he offered.

‘No that’s just mean! But you’ve changed shape.’

Peter breathed in proudly and looked down over his chest and stomach. Through his light T-shirt the new definition to his body was noticeable and even though there was still a little give round his waist he was in good condition.

‘I said, didn’t I, after the knee got fixed I’d take care of myself better.’

Jenna tentatively prodded him. ‘Is that a six pack?’ she asked.

‘Umm… no I think I’m too far gone for one of them, but I’ve lost weight, toned up a bit. I go running…’

Jenna’s attention switched to his legs. She craned her neck and looked under the table, raising her eyebrows in approval. ‘So I see,’ she said. She looked at him in concern.

‘You’re not having a crisis are you? Like a mid-life crisis? Is there a motorbike? A sports car?’ she looked at him, horrified.

‘If I am having a _mid_ life crisis, I’m going to live until I’m one hundred and sixteen,’ he answered, ‘Bit old for all that stuff.’

‘I don’t know you have a guitar.’

‘I’ve always had a guitar, that’s allowed. No I’m not having a crisis. I just needed to get fit. The show, well you know what it gets like, when we start again in a few weeks I don’t want to be so exhausted as I was last year. Napping over my lunchbreak and so on. Busting my knee! I can’t keep that up and if things were like that I’d have to consider… you know… moving on.’

Jenna’s eyes widened. ‘You didn’t tell me it was that bad,’ she said. ‘I knew you were tired but we all were…’

‘I didn’t think it was that bad at the time, but I’ve had months and months of hiatus, of relaxation and being able to sleep when I want. Well I say that, the first few months were bumpy… after we… when we weren’t communicating.’

Jenna slipped her hand over his, ‘I didn’t sleep much either,’ she confessed, ‘And I was working. At least you got to mooch in your studio. I had to be up at 5am.’

He smiled. ‘Yes, grim,’ he sat back in his chair, breathed a sigh of relief, ‘Oh Jenna I’m so glad we’re speaking, more than speaking, and not just glad, relieved,’ he covered their hands with his and squeezed. She felt the soft warmth that was uniquely his run through her fingers.

‘Me too,’ she gazed at his eyes, green blue today, happier. She stared too long and had to let go, both of them sensing the unspoken thing they were trying to avoid. She decided to tease him instead. ‘So you’ve been working out? Turning into a proper old sex symbol aren’t you?’

‘Shut up.’

‘We’ll get to this convention and there will be hundreds of them; women, and some men, all lined up to see you. All thinking you’re a heartthrob. You need to deal with it.’

‘I am not a heartthrob,’ he dismissed with mock irritation. She watched him blush again and a small sliver of pride cross his features. Just enough to let her know he’d wondered about it, if he could really be people’s focus of attention that way. Jenna smiled, he deserved to feel attractive, sexy even, good for him, his usual way of viewing himself was as the grey haired stick insect, the funny looking thin one. His self esteem when it came to his looks was lousy.

‘Course not,’ she replied, ‘That’s really why you worked out isn’t it? So you could be in all the pictures at the convention looking hunky.’

Peter erupted into laughter, ‘Hunky?’ he asked. ‘Not a word I’ve ever heard applied to me.’

‘Well start applying it,’ Jenna said, squeezing one strong thigh, ‘because you are going to get mobbed.’

 

On the plane Peter’s nervous energy got the better of him and he fell asleep in the seat next to her. He had apparently been up most of the night before, completely unable to drop off. This, she stated, was more evidence of his childishness at times, sitting up too excited, thinking of seeing her like a little boy before Christmas. He had paced the house, drunk tea, wandered his studio and quietly strummed his guitar, but rest hadn’t come to him. She’d teased him but then Jenna had been much the same, she said, except now deep into the flight she still had that buzz, that adrenaline that wouldn’t let her doze. Even Michelle, perpetually overactive Michelle, was out like a light a few seats down.

Jenna looked over at Peter, so close to her after so long, and so vulnerable as he was. She’d seen him dozing in his trailer, or on their respective couches many a time, but this seemed different somehow. Far from home, and, she had discovered since their night together, infinitely sensitive and easily hurt. It made her want to protect him all the more, but she was the thing she had to protect him from.

He was very slightly on his side, curled in on himself to take the strain off his back but still allowing his long legs space to stretch. He had placed a travelling pillow under the left side of his head and brought his arm up to hold it there. Jenna leaned forward so that they were opposite one another, side by side, mirror images, and lifted the arm rest so they could get closer. She felt his breath hit her face and heard the soft breathy noise he made. She absorbed the details of every feature in the gloom of the low lighting. One essential fact hadn’t changed; he was beautiful and she wished not for the first time that he was hers, that things were simple.

Suddenly her heart just ached. All the lies she told herself collapsed at once. The banter they had shared back and forth since getting on the flight was forgotten. It all felt so much more serious now. This was Peter and she thought about him much more than she should, she’d longed for today’s date to come around, and who was she kidding when she tried to convinced herself going on this trip was all about growing up, moving on and securing friendships.

Jenna had three days of solid contact with him lined up and she began to wonder if it had been a good idea, but she was here now and that was that. The three days would make or break them, ruin everything or forge something stronger and she felt scared. It had seemed easier when they were just on the phone, when his physicality was not present, not tempting her. When she couldn’t smell that aftershave or hold his hand. It was easier then to just be friends.

She bit her lip and tried to remain calm, tried not to wake him and make him talk it through. That would have to wait until the hotel, until they were alone; a plan that had its own drawbacks. Jenna was wide awake for the remainder of the flight, knowing now, deep down, that for her nothing had changed.


	12. Chapter 12

At last they had reached the hotel, a huge opulent place picked out by the convention organisers for their very special guests. They were to have rooms on the top floor, the most luxuriant of suites and Peter had joked that they’d never seen the like when put up by the BBC. Things had become relaxed. The further they flew from London, the easier it was to forget things like real life.

Firstly, after dozing off fairly early in proceedings thanks to half the contents of the lounge bar and a huge adrenaline crash, he had woken on the plane to the sound of the crew ordering they buckle up for touch down and found Jenna by his side, wide awake and pensive. He was concerned initially, concerned she’d had too much time to think alone and decided against this venture after all. He nudged her gently.

‘Hey, you OK?’

She turned and looked at him wide eyed for a moment before she answered and then her certain smile lit up her face. It was as though she’d just remembered where they were; what they were doing.

‘Yes! Yes, don’t be silly everything’s fine. Just didn’t get any rest.’

He tried to read beneath the surface of her expression and failed. ‘You’re going to say I was snoring aren’t you?’ he asked for something to say.

‘No!’ Jenna patted his hand, waited a second and then snorted in amusement. ‘Maybe a little heavy going on the breathing, bit whistly, bit wheezy in the nose department.’

‘Heavy going on the… _whistly_?’ he pulled an incredulous face, ‘Thanks a lot!’

Her pensive look was gone and although part of him fretted he was only too desperate to wish away any worries about this weekend. He’d got himself wound up waiting for her at Heathrow and he didn’t want to have to down gin and tonics at the breakneck pace he had done in the bar just to get through each day. He wasn’t a big drinker and he could already feel the headache. Peter pushed concerns aside and braced himself for landing, ignoring the tiny voice of warning he could hear deep inside.

Things were fine on the ground too, more than fine. They ran into fans in the terminal and spent twenty minutes or so signing and posing and getting right back into the swing of things as a duo. He made the children laugh while Jenna complimented them on their costumes and the homemade gifts they brought her. They spoke to the parents who had been forced by their beloved infants to stand waiting for hours for the pair, and insisted they come in on the act and get photos too. They were charming and only too happy to oblige and no-one would ever guess they had jet lag. They were the picture of a well oiled publicity machine with a genuine heart, just as they always had been. They just _worked_ together.

In the cab, done at last with the autographs, and despite creeping exhaustion, Peter and Jenna had talked non-stop from the airport, an endless supply of chatter which flowed easily back and forth. It felt so deceptively like old times that Peter found the last of his barriers lowering without warning. His body language changed and he felt his tense muscles ease a little and after a while he caught himself looking long into her eyes. By the time he really noticed he didn’t care, he just wanted to enjoy her company as he had once been privileged to do, uninterrupted, unchaperoned, one to one. Again the warning voice piped up in alarm and again he dismissed it. He wasn’t doing anything wrong. It was only a conversation.

But how quickly she could strip him of his defences and of all the vows he’d made over the months before. The more they spoke, the closer she sat. It was all unconscious but once noticed so hard to undo. There wasn’t enough will power in the world it seemed.  How easily she could ingratiate herself back into his life and heart, but then, she’d never really left, he’d never closed the book.

Jenna wasn’t doing it deliberately, he could see her catching her sentences mid way through, trying to omit an innuendo or joke which might be seen as too much. Eventually she’d give in, laugh a full rich laugh, holding onto his arm while she doubled over, hair in her face. Her laughter made him giggle, watching her trying to control herself and fail, knowing he’d brought her that release and so they carried on, teasing and playing with one another, like they always had.

Once at the hotel he knew he was in deep trouble. It wasn’t just the old positives she brought to him. Peter wrestled with himself as they checked in at the lobby, as he watched her sign her name and flirt with the man behind the desk. The receptionist blushed when Jenna looked his way and was clearly quite taken with the beautiful English actress. Peter felt a stab of protective jealousy as strong as any he’d ever felt when it came to her. His feelings had not lessened.

By the time he was standing outside his hotel door he knew he needed to take some time alone, think and regroup, remember the conversations he had had with Elaine, remember how potentially destructive things could get with Jenna. He dropped her off at her door a dozen yards from his and waved to her as he pushed open his own. She smiled broadly and waved back.

‘See you in a bit!’ she said, referring to the dinner they had agreed to share tonight before the convention started properly in the morning. They would need their strength as they had already seen plenty of rather obvious fans milling around the hotel and the street and bars outside in the hope of meeting their idols. If they felt up to it later Jenna had agreed to go with him and say hello to a few, most likely the children, to save them the long hot tiring process of standing in line tomorrow.

Peter shut the door behind him and sighed, dumping his case and immediately sitting on the edge of his bed to remove his shoes. The huge soft mattress practically swallowed him as he flopped back and looked up at the ceiling tiredly. He was exhausted but also exhilarated. He liked being the star, he liked meeting fans knowing he could make their day by doing something very simple, and that for these few years the affection and admiration that they gave to him was so genuine, it represented something beautiful about people.

 He met all sorts from all walks of life but had met very few who could be described as ‘creepy.’ Some were fanatical yes, but that was what ‘fan’ meant after all and looking back on his teenage years he couldn’t judge. He smiled and chuckled to himself. He might meet a future Doctor Who out there tonight. He might also meet some people in homemade costumes, they always rather impressed him as he walked down the street and came face to face with himself or a homemade zygon. There were a lot of TARDISes this year.

Well, if he was ever to get that far he had to have dinner first. And if he was to have dinner he needed a shower, or a bath. He rubbed at his neck, a bath might be more relaxing after the flight in and he could think better in a bath too if he could relax. He’d slept for a couple of hours at least and his muscles were complaining. His headache was worsening too. He got up and grabbed water from the fridge, attempting to rehydrate, rummaged in his jacket pocket for pain killers and knocked them back.

The suite was living up to its opulent reputation. Now he was upright again he could appreciate the size of it and the fact it seemed to be divided into more rooms than his first flat. It was an odd mixture of classically luxurious and smooth modern lines with the massive bed made up in pure white but with a four poster style that could easily have fitted in eighteenth century France. Still it seemed to work somehow. He popped his head into the living and working space provided, noted the desk and the huge couches before a massive wall mounted television and an area to eat. All this space and he’d barely be in here before he was whisked away to the next city on the tour. He could have been put up somewhere a lot cheaper and saved the company a fortune. He never could quite get used to the money element of the job. It was all so extravagant.

Back through into the bedroom and he toyed with the idea a short nap, but he’d already had one of those on the plane and any more and he’d be awake all night and upside down with his body clock messing up the whole weekend. No, he just had to have dinner and keep to appropriate timings or he’d live to regret it. He pulled his T-shirt over his head and undid the belt on his trousers.

Bending he retrieved his case, unzipped and unpacked a little. He sorted the clean clothes from the T-shirt he had in his hand and put it in the ‘worn’ side. He glanced around the room to find the wardrobe and kept his fingers crossed as he opened it. Peter grinned when he found what he wanted, a thick white bathrobe and slippers. One of his favourite things when it came to staying away from home. He never packed a robe so prayed for one to materialise at each venue. He dropped his trousers, removed his socks and wrapped himself in towelling. Ah the clean scent of laundry.

Definitely a bath, he decided. Jenna would understand if he took a little time, she probably would herself for similar reasons, he could sense she was thinking hard under that confident exterior, they both had the same dilemmas. He crossed the room to where he assumed the bathroom lurked behind the door and grabbed the handle.

It took a moment to pieced together exactly what had happened amidst the steam and the squealing. That squeal was shortly followed by a clatter as various toothbrush holders and soap dishes went flying. Before he knew it he was standing staring at Jenna, Jenna behind a small bath towel, with her hair scraped up into a rough bun and a look of horror on her face. She had quite clearly been running a bath herself, leaning naked over the taps when the door had opened forcing her to grab the nearest towel and knock over everything in her path. When the steam cleared a bit by vanquishing itself into Peter’s bedroom, she stopped squealing and just looked at him.

Peter looked back for a moment too long, hypnotised by the smooth outline of her body and the minimal area covered by the towel. He rapidly came to, however and turned away covering his eyes.

‘Jesus, Jenna what are you doing?’

‘What does it look like I’m doing? I’m running a bloody bath and then you burst in. I’m just relieved its only you. I thought I was going to be murdered under the cover of all that steam. Why are you in my bathroom?’

‘Why are you in mine…oh…’ he made a noise of realisation. ‘They’ve put us in adjoining suites.’

‘What? Why? Don’t move by the way, I’m getting a bigger towel.’

‘It’s a thing they do sometimes, link two suites with a bathroom. Usually in older hotels.’

‘Is it? Because I’ve never heard of it… you can turn around…and personally think you rigged it so you could see me naked.’

Peter turned still half shading his eyes and then dropped his hand when the coast was clear. ‘I did not rig it!’ he protested.

Jenna arched one eyebrow at him challengingly.

‘Seriously?’ he asked, ‘You think I would…?’

She burst out laughing and approached him, towel wrapped around her breasts and covering her to her knees. ‘No, silly, you’re much too much of a gentleman to do that aren’t you? You looked horrified. Was it horrifying?’ she teased.

‘What? No, I just… well I wasn’t expecting it so… I mean completely…. there’s nothing horrifying about you Jenna, but I wasn’t expecting nudity, not that you shouldn’t be…’ he addressed her changing expressing from serious to hurt to amused. She nodded and shook her head according to what he was saying and eventually he crumbled, giggles overtaking him.

Jenna was by now perched on the side of the bath watching him laugh. She’d turned the taps off and was waiting for him to recover.

‘You ok?’ she asked eventually.

Peter straightened and steadied himself with one hand against the wall. ‘Fine,’ he smiled. Jenna adjusted some of her pinned up hair, presumably to keep it dry when she was in the bath. He noticed she had already removed her make-up and her face was bare. She looked lovely and he felt a surge of need to wrap he in his arms. Instead he took a step back. ‘I’ll just,’ he made a sign to go back to his room and Jenna looked up sharply.

‘Thought you wanted a bath?’

‘It can wait.’

‘Doesn’t have to,’ she said from nowhere. She looked at him expectantly and he wondered if she was holding her breath.

‘What?’ he asked.

‘You heard, doesn’t have to wait, you don’t have to wait. Look at the size of this bathtub, it’s all massive and American, made for two.’

He felt a wave of tingling start to move its way over his abdomen. ‘Jenna you know that isn’t very wise,’ he said warningly. He watched as she trailed one hand through the deep bubbles of the bath.

‘I’ve shared big bubble baths like this with my girlfriends,’ she remarked trying to normalise it. Her voice was a little strained, like she was desperately trying to keep her cool and win him over. ‘Get some wine or champagne, a few snacks, sit back and relax. It’s got a Jacuzzi function for later if all the bubbles pop and you’re shy.’

He hesitated half way torn between the door and the tub. He looked at Jenna who had averted her eyes during her attempt to persuade him but who now looked up almost hopefully at him.

‘Jenna,’ he started, ‘I… we’ve talked so much about this, this… attraction between us.’

‘I know.’

‘You know then that I can’t go there, look what happened last time, all the misery we caused ourselves and our partners.’

‘I never told my partner, he had nothing to be miserable about,’ Jenna said, ‘And as for Elaine, well she’s half wishing you’d get on with it so that it can stop being an issue. Don’t look so surprised, you know she’s in contact with me sometimes. I’ve just added two and two together. She’s not here Peter. She’s always here, if you’re travelling, she loves it. Going new places, meeting people, standing around just being so proud of you. So why wouldn’t she come now?’

Peter blinked at her, ‘You what? I told you, the schedule is jammed, there isn’t time for those things…’

Jenna shrugged and went back to running her hand through the water. ‘If you say so,’ she said.

‘I do,’ Peter pushed open the door behind him. Jenna stood up.

‘You’re sure you won’t join me?’ she asked.

He could see what she was about to do and didn’t know if he was shocked or excited. It was a side of Jenna’s personality he had always suspected existed but one she kept hidden and private, for certain lucky eyes only. Now here it was, confident and beautiful, decisive, sexy and sure of itself. He saw her slip her fingers behind the knot of the towel between her breasts and the edge of the material begin to slip. In a split second the whole thing would fall and she would be standing in front of him, naked, asking him to join her in the bath.

‘I’m sure,’ he said, his voice oddly husky, and turned so that he was out of the door, shutting it and leaning against it.

‘Shit,’ he said to himself, ‘Shit….’ He glanced around the wider room. His heart was racing and he could feel it in his throat. The tingle in his abdomen was threatening to concentrate its forces further below and he felt himself twitch at the knowledge that she was in the next room, naked, apparently wanting him.

He wanted to go back in. God he wanted to go back. They had danced around this problem all year, perhaps longer. They had spoken about it at length, convinced one another there were so many reasons why it was not possible, convinced themselves that they had accepted that and they could reunite this weekend and just be friends. Have fun, hang out, not think about having sex with one another, or that close bond they shared, or god help him, his feelings. Now it seemed like both of them had been wrong. That both of them had suddenly discovered that attraction was still very much there, it still controlled them and it probably would until one of them gave in. Gave in, in this hotel, miles from home, where no-one would ever know and they would have privacy to…

Elaine had been right. Again. And Jenna was right about Elaine, she wasn’t here. She had given him a free pass for these three days, a last chance to solve the situation.

Through the door he heard a splash as Jenna lowered herself into the bubble bath. She was probably angry, or worse upset. She’d feel guilty one minute and the next blame him and then hate herself for doing so. He knew exactly how she would feel because they were just so similar and if he was left in that bathroom alone, he would feel wretched too and the whole weekend would be an awkward painful shadow of their former relationship. He couldn’t lose that.

Peter crossed the room to the fridge and extracted a bottle of champagne. He lifted two glasses from the mini bar and returned to the bathroom door, pushing it open with his shoulder.

Jenna looked up from the far end of the bathtub. She was sitting with her knees drawn up, just like she always did when she felt vulnerable. Her eyes were red with tears. He felt instantly dreadful.

‘I’m sorry,’ Peter said, ‘I tend to get into a bit of a panic…’

‘I know, I probably came on a bit strong, I don’t know what got into me, I just…’ she splashed her hands out of the water, ‘It just seemed like the world’s most brilliant idea to seduce my married ex co-star _right now_ by getting naked. I am so stupid, so, so stupid, ’ she moaned and shook her head, ‘Sorry, sorry…’

‘It’s OK, it’s OK, I can sort of understand it,’ he said, ‘Well I can’t understand why you want to seduce me but I can understand, being here, far from home, just thinking ‘what the hell,’ believe me when I say I get that.’ He set the glasses down on the ledge by her head, and started undoing the champagne. Jenna gave him a weak smile and tried subtly to wipe her eyes.

‘So what are you thinking now?’ she asked.

‘I’m thinking…’ Peter said, ‘I’m thinking,’ he crouched by her end of the bath and looked at her on a level, ‘I can’t keep doing this, feeling like this, making you feel like this. Something has to change.’

Jenna nodded sadly, ‘OK,’ she murmured.

‘Jenna,’ he touched her damp cheek gently, drew in a deep breath as his decision solidified into reality. ‘I want to be with you,’ he said, ‘This weekend. I want to start what never got started… on the proviso that it has to finish too, but I think we should give ourselves that because running and hiding, ignoring it and hoping for the best just isn’t working for me.’

She looked up at him and sought in his eyes for confirmation of what he was saying. He nodded and waited for her to speak. ‘So,’ she said hesitantly, ‘you want to… get in the bath?’. He smiled kindly, aware Jenna was desperately trying to seem fun rather than painfully hopeful, rather than letting on how much it meant when he answered.

Peter chuckled, ‘Yes, I want to get in the bath,’ he saw her relief cross her face and then a mask of confidence take over to hide her fragile feelings. He went with it, feeling fragile himself. ‘Yes, once I get this champagne open and on one condition.’

‘Let me see,’ Jenna pondered dramatically, ‘I close my eyes?’

He stood, ‘That’s the one,’ the pressure was building under the cork and he twisted the frame one more time before he levered his thumbs under it.

‘There’s nothing wrong with you!’ Jenna protested, ‘I want to see! You’ve been working out and I demand to see the results!’

The cork popped and a stream of champagne shot from the bottle and down over Jenna’s bath. Her squeal rapidly became high pitched laughter until she was silenced gradually by Peter handing her a full glass. He knelt again by her and offered a toast, holding her gaze as he did so. Soft silence settled over them. He didn’t know whether happiness or sadness was the greater emotion in the room, but he recognised the bittersweet pain in his throat as he spoke. He could feel the truth, and although they would finally be together, they would quickly be broken apart.

‘To this weekend,’ he said.

‘This weekend,’ Jenna repeated, tears still in her eyes.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mature content as Jenna and Peter spend their first night at the convention, but its an emotional rollercoaster for both of them as they realise how short a weekend can be.

The hall was full, full to bursting. Jenna made her way carefully through chairs and cordons to the desk at the back which was hers. Over it a picture of her dangled from the ceiling on long chains and swung in the breeze of the faulty airconditioner. She looked up as she took her place, it was like sitting under a radiator; she was going to melt.

She looked to her left and watched Peter sit down at his table, a handler on one side and a pile of sharpies on another. He removed his jacket and greeted the first few in line as he readied himself. Jenna really had no idea how he did it, that energy, he had twice as much as her at twice her age.

The fans were growing restless having spotted that their idols had arrived. The long line they had been waiting in looped around on itself and back again. They shuffled and moved from foot to foot. Apparently they had been there two hours already to secure their places. Two hours. Jenna found it both touching and slightly intimidating. If she had been waiting two hours she would want things to go perfectly and right now they quite clearly weren’t. The hold up and the air conditioner were just the start of a long line of disasters; Michelle hadn’t been able to make the signing having taken ill. Now Jenna and Peter had to shoulder the disappointment of her fans somehow.

Her handler asked if she was ready and she signalled that she was, watching as the cordon in front of her desk was removed and the first fan stepped forward proffering their eight by ten. Soon she would get into a rhythm of greet, chat, sign and the minutes would tick by. She had already agreed with Peter that the pair of them would sit as long as needed to sign everyone’s photos before moving onto a panel and a photo session of their own. It seemed only fair, some of these people had travelled thousands of miles.

Twenty minutes in and she blew her hair out of her face for the third time, strands sticking to forehead. She could feel her light top sticking to her back and thought not for the first time about how glamourous her job often was. Jenna glanced across at Peter who looked annoyingly cool and calm and wondered how he managed it under the hot lights and faulty fan over his head. Sometimes she wondered if he was real, if he was maybe an actual Gallifreyan with a lower body temperature. She’d suggested as much last night as they’d sat in the hot bath together, when she’d been downing cold champagne in an attempt to keep her cool.

Last night. Jenna smiled to herself and signed another photo, said something generic but kind to the fan it belonged to and moved on. Her focus wasn’t great, she had to admit, her mind was elsewhere. She was overly warm and her skin increasingly flushed and all it did was remind her of the time they’d shared. She tried not to think, to ignore at least any doubts or worries and just allow herself the good bits, because to be honest if she let herself feel the heartbreak she knew was coming on Monday she didn’t think she would survive.

She glanced at Peter again and he looked across at her suddenly with a subtle expression which probably only she would recognise as flirtation. He pointed his pen at her.

‘No slacking, Jenna,’ he called.

‘I’m personalising the experience!’ she argued.

‘Hmm… excuses…’ he turned to the fan in front of him, ‘She’s just upset she can’t keep up with me.’

Jenna’s eyes widened comically. ‘Oi!’ she ejected and he looked at her again, eyebrows heavy and something sultry in his gaze, ‘You know I can keep up,’ she said with a wink. He burst into giggles as usual, Peter was terrible at corpsing.

 

Eventually she had promised to cover her eyes while he lowered himself into the bath, she didn’t even peek between her fingers, feeling as she did a little fragile and emotional, she assumed he felt the same and she didn’t want to break trust or tease him. Finally ensconced under the safety of the bubbles he bid her remove her hands. Jenna smiled at the sight of him leaning back into the heat of the water. He was so handsome she just couldn’t fathom why he worried.

‘Can I…?’ she asked gesturing for herself to join him at his end. He opened his arms, beckoned her up. Jenna pushed off the side of the bath and turned, felt his arms come around her waist and help her into position between his legs. She leaned back against his chest and sighed, the wayward tears she had recently stopped shedding, swallowed back. This was their time, she shouldn’t think about next week, just now.

She felt him stroke her stomach absently with one hand while he pressed a kiss into her bundled up hair. Jenna reached up and took the clips out of it so as not to spike him, casting them onto the side of the ledge by the bath.

‘Ah I forgot my glass,’ she realised.

‘Use mine,’ he reached it down, ‘Don’t want you to move,’ he kissed her neck softly. Jenna snuggled back harder and heard him inhale. She laid a hand on his thigh and began stroking and massaging, remembering how it had affected him before.

‘We’re really doing this,’ she said quietly, replacing the glass.

‘I think if we don’t we’re always going to wonder,’ Peter ran his hand slowly up her stomach, ‘You’re becoming an obsession,’ he admitted. Jenna giggled.

‘I’m the ghost of _Doctor Who_ past,’ she said, ‘You need to lay me to rest…’

‘Lay you to…?’

‘Emphasis on lay,’ she laughed.

‘Jenna! That’s awful. Trying to be romantic here…’ she could feel him roll his eyes behind her, outraged at her crudity even though he was capable of so much worse, but she was in hysterics by then, the giggles wouldn’t stop. She felt his chest start to move behind her back as her giggles became infectious and his became squeakier. It only served to crack her up further until at last she very deliberately sat forward and turned to face him. She watched as he fought to get himself under control, biting down on his lip and wiping his eyes.

‘Talk about being a bit overwrought,’ she said, ‘Look at the pair of us losing it over one of my bad jokes.’

‘At least you admit they’re bad,’ he said.

Jenna opened her mouth in mock horror, ‘If you think mine are bad, look at yours, and they are _repetitive_ too.’

‘You are so cheeky and clearly have no respect for the wisdom of your elders.’

‘I’m just sick of the same jokes…’

‘Right that’s it!’

He leaned forward suddenly and grabbed her around the waist again so that she squealed a she was pulled towards him along with a tidal wave of bathwater.

‘Wait! Peter! Oh god the water… look! No…’ she spluttered between gasps of laughter. She found herself firmly on his lap, her face close to his and looking directly into his eyes and her hands on his shoulders. Automatically she tightened her thighs around him and watched a slow smile form on his lips in response. Jenna looked down, saw the level of the water had sunk a little, from the portion of it slopped all over the tiles to the water running down the overspill now that there were two of them in the bath. Its served to expose her breasts and ribcage when she was perched as she was on his lap.

‘Am I in trouble?’ she asked.

‘What do you think?’ he replied softly. Something in the atmosphere shifted and the playful release of stress gave way to something much more needful. Jenna looked over his features, placed her hands over his cheeks and traced his bone structure. He turned slightly to kiss her fingertips as they passed. Here was where it began, their three days.

‘Can we just stay here tonight?’ she asked suddenly, ‘Skip dinner, skip the fans, just stay here together?’

He chuckled and raised his eyebrows, ‘We may have to eat at some point or we’ll both collapse.’

‘Get room service,’ she offered, ‘Or takeaway or something,’ he frowned slightly as she talked and she caught it. ‘I know its daft but I don’t want to waste a minute.’

He swept her damp hair back, ‘Isn’t daft,’ he assured her. His eyes were so intense, she wondered if she’d ever seen him that exposed before and how long he had felt truly that strongly for her. It almost scared her to think he had been alone with all those feelings until she realised it had been the same for her. Exactly the same and that anything she projected at him now he could deal with, because they were simpatico. Jenna looked down at his lips and wet her own, saw him spot the movement and tilt his head slightly.

They were kissing and she recognised them as the slow kisses of that first night at the end of the shoot when kisses had seemed enough, except now they escalated quickly. He opened his mouth to her readily and she felt their tongues slip past one another in their own rhythm while her hips fought to cant forward into him. Peter had his hands in her hair and on her back before she felt them again at her waist encouraging her movements. She heard him suck in breath as they changed the angle of their kiss, a small pant as their mouths came apart briefly, and the sound made her body tingle.

Beneath her she could feel him hardening between her legs, pressing now against her pubic bone and she rocked herself against him to stimulate them both. She let her hands roam over his chest and smiled into his mouth as she reached his stomach and he flinched sway. She only redoubled her efforts and moaned against him, teaching him that she found him sensual, erotic. He whimpered as she touched his belly and further below.

Peter broke the kiss and began instead laving her neck, then peppering it with smaller kisses. She moved so he had free access to her chest and encouraged his mouth to where she felt herself burning for his touch. His hot tongue felt cool in the heat of the bath as it circled and sucked on her nipples and Jenna let out a surprised gasp of pleasure as he worked on her with fingertips and mouth. It seemed he could not do enough for her, clasped against her breast, his hands touching where she was most sensitive.

She was far gone now and wanted him desperately, reaching down under the water and wrapping her fingers around him. This was Peter, and tonight he was _her_ Peter at last. She felt possessive as she clutched at his body. She had so often thought of these moments but even in her most vivid imaginings she had no sense of how intense it might feel. Looking at him it seemed the same for him. He leaned his forehead suddenly against her and let out a deep groan while his pelvis tipped under her and up against her sex. No, more wasting time. Jenna took it as a cue to position him between her legs, rub the tip of him along her entrance and push. He held her still a moment.

‘Jenna…’

‘Please,’ she breathed heavily into his ear, ‘Want you so badly.’

Whatever his doubts had been this seemed enough to dispel them and he held himself in place as she moved, drawing a long groan of arousal from her as he slid into her body. For his own part he shut his eyes tight, bit down hard and gripped her firmly by her hips. Jenna gave him little time to adjust, holding him and kissing him hard, working her pelvis purposefully until he was panting into her mouth, kissing her sloppily in the heat and steam of the bathroom.

They had waited months, they had waited years, it depended on how you looked at it, and as such there was no possibility that this first frantic union would last longer than minutes. When Jenna felt his fingers move to touch her below the water she knew he had her undone. His body was stiffening and tensing with each thrust she made over him, his face flushed and damp just as hers must be. At first she tried to slow the pace for both of them, the water slopping around them but soon enough she couldn’t hold back from the need to just grind down, let him fill her completely, hear him moan in response.

The first waves of her orgasm hit just as he came to a sudden halt under her, letting out a cry of pleasure, but she rode him through his release and pressed herself firmly against his fingers as she came. Finally, exhausted she leaned against his shoulder, feeling him regain his breath slowly. Part of her couldn’t believe where she was, what she’d done and her emotions spiralled, confused, exhilarated, frightened.

There was a buzz of something in the room and it took her a moment to work it out. At last when she felt his lips softly on her neck again she gained a clue. Jenna tried to turn her head to look at him but he held it to his shoulder.

‘Just… give me a minute,’ he said roughly. Jenna’s heart leapt and she immediately began to worry. Was he feeling bad? Was he regretting it as soon as they had finished? Oh God she couldn’t bear it if he was filled with guilt, if this had been a mistake. She sat back despite his attempt to keep her where she couldn’t see his face.

‘Peter?’

He looked down and away from her but it was clear he was emotional, that his eyes were red, and if they hadn’t been in the sticky heat of the hot bathroom his tears would have been more obvious.

‘I’m fine,’ he said.

‘Yeah, looks it,’ Jenna commented, a hint of panic in her voice. She carefully touched his face and forced him to look up.

‘Do you… I mean do you wish we…?’ she started.

He laughed sadly, swiped a tear from his cheek and looked up at the ceiling. ‘Do I wish we hadn’t?’ he asked and she nodded. Peter returned his eyes to her and smiled painfully. ‘That’s what anyone might expect me to wish isn’t it?’ he said. ‘But it isn’t, don’t worry, I don’t regret it.’

Jenna breathed out in relief and then reached to stroke his hair. ‘So what is it?’ she asked.

He looked up. ‘I wish we’d done it before,’ he said simply, ‘One weekend doesn’t feel enough.’

It had taken her a while to comfort him, drag him from the bath and wrap him in that robe he loved so much before curling together on his bed. Jenna held him and kissed him and surprised herself in her ability to be positive about their weekend when deep down she felt much as he did; that it was too little too late, that they were trying to squeeze an entire relationship into three days and then go their separate ways with a whistle and a bounce in their step.

‘Sorry,’ he said lying flat out and staring at the curtains on the four poster.

‘Shut up, I forgive you. Anyway you’ll end up having to hold me together at some point this weekend I’m sure of it.’

‘You’re stronger than you like to think you are,’

‘So are you,’ Jenna rolled onto her stomach at his side and looked down at him. ‘We’ve wasted the last hour being miserable,’ she commented.

Peter pulled a face, ‘Sorry, my fault.’

Jenna contemplated, ‘It’s fine but I think we should move on, do something fun, not that kind of fun,’ she admonished when he raised his eyebrows.

‘I thought that was the point of this weekend?’ he said.

‘What!’ Jenna cried outraged, ‘There is more to our friendship, to what we feel about each other than sex… you’re… you’re such a man!’

‘Well if I wasn’t you probably wouldn’t be that interested…’

Jenna sat up, ‘You don’t know that, I’ve played a couple of bisexual characters now, there could be truth in it.’ Peter sat up beside her, propping himself on his arms. ‘Anyway that’s beside the point we’re not just here to… do that!’ She suddenly reached for a pillow and whacked him over the chest with it in punishment. He let out a winded noise.

‘You’re a holy terror when you get into a hotel,’ he said, ‘First you flood the bathroom and now you’re assaulting me.’

‘Better pick your weapon then,’ she said smugly.

‘Oh I don’t need a weapon,’ he replied.

‘Sure about that?’ Jenna had jested just seconds before he tackled her onto the bed.

 

The last of the fans were straggling through at Peter’s table, and Jenna’s had not long left. She was watching him sign and chatter with as much energy as he had shown at the beginning until at last he was free and came to meet her. They were to be shepherded to the photoshoot by the handlers in a few minutes.

‘How’s your day going?’ Jenna asked.

‘Oh you know, busy,’ he leaned against her table, ‘They’re all very sweet. It’s a bit hot though.’

‘Hopefully in the next room the air-con will work.’ Jenna remarked looking out over the hall. She felt Peter turn his head to her and give her a small lopsided smile.

‘Don’t look at me,’ she warned, ‘Not trusting myself,’

‘Oh? he asked, ‘Not trusting yourself to what?’

‘You know what…’

‘Not trusting yourself to… keep your hands off me?’ he teased in a low voice. Peter’s ability to keep so superficially cheerful was beginning to irritate her when she was finding things so intermittently hard. She just wanted to stop having to pretend and go somewhere private, be reassured.

Jenna shook her head. ‘This is so unfair. We don’t even get a chance to go back to the hotel, just straight onto the bloody plane, straight into another convention. Who organised this?’

Peter gulped and looked back to the handlers who were finishing up across the room. Jenna caught his expression, she had successfully sliced through his cheer. She kicked herself knowing how fragile he had been last night.

‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘Not meaning to be snappy, it’s just… well… I love cons usually but time is limited and…’

‘I know,’ he said gently, covering one of her hands with his as she leaned on the table with him. ‘Trust me I know and as much as I love this job, there are places I’d rather be, people I’d rather be with, just this once.’

He looked down at her, all tousled hair and David Bowie T-shirt, so quintessentially Peter that she couldn’t help but smile. His eyes crinkled as he leaned forward and kissed her on the top of her head, platonic, unremarkable, his hand just skimming her lower back she pulled away. She sighed. He was doing his best to make her feel better when she knew he was hurting.

‘This is part of the gig,’ she reminded herself. ‘Doing the fan thing.’

‘It was always part of the gig,’ Peter agreed. ’We’re just a bit distracted.’

Distracted. Obsessed. Soon to be heartbroken.

Two more days, she thought, on her way to the photoshoot. The highs were so very high that she tingled with happiness just at the memories, but the lows were awful and the two extremes came one after another like a rollercoaster. She’d been Peter’s support last night and now she just wanted to cry. As such she struggled to see how things could be OK by Monday for the pair of them, how it could really just be a one off as they had agreed. She daren’t say the words that described her feelings for Peter, she felt them deep inside wrapped around her heart. So the same questions kept running through her mind, over and over as she posed and smiled, even flirted with him for the camera at the behest of some fans.

When could they be alone together again? Had this weekend been the right thing to do? Who was going to get hurt? And if it really was just an outlet for pent up feelings did the weekend really offer a cure, or would she only feel worse come Monday, because really she couldn’t stand to feel worse than she frequently did right now.

‘You OK?’ Peter had mouthed between photos, a frown of concern clear to see on his brow.

He couldn’t answer her questions and she was busy she couldn’t really answer his, so Jenna nodded cheerfully and carefully adjusted her façade.

Smile, say cheese, snap.

Next.

There was always later that night, when their plane touched down in the next city and they finally made it to the hotel.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More mature scenes and more angst, because you can't have one without the other.

They were escorted straight from the panel to the airport and rapidly through check-in. It wasn’t exactly a military operation and Peter could see that Jenna was getting increasingly disillusioned with the organisational skills of those running the thing. Normally she was pretty tolerant but, like him, she was a little more frayed round the edges and things like not having time for a sit down and a cup of tea at the hotel before being moved on were quite genuinely getting to her. Actually, it wasn’t the tea, he knew her better than that. Jenna’s big expressive eyes had been begging him to speak with her privately all afternoon, there just simply wasn’t a minute they were left to their own devices. Jenna’s handler even escorted her to the loo lest she be mobbed by fans.

Now they were on board at last he had hoped Jenna would unwind a little but when he glanced down next to him he found her sitting with her face covered by one hand and he smooth jawline set with stress. She pinched the bridge of her nose as he watched. She was tense and irritable and he couldn’t do much about it.

Michelle had emerged from her room feeling slightly better and taken the decision to join them for the next city on the tour. As such she was seated near enough to them now to catch any slightly odd behaviour or stray words even over the plane’s engines. Peter longed to put his arm around Jenna and offer some comfort but he felt suddenly self-conscious about it. As friends it had never been an issue; now he was sure people would notice and query it.

The flight was relatively short at two hours, but he couldn’t decide if this was a good or a bad thing. He was keen Jenna touch down and get some proper rest in a hotel, but she was complaining of being shoved pillar to post and he wondered if keeping her in one place for a spell might be a better idea, even if it was on-board a plane. If someone told her now to get up and move he was fairly sure there would be fireworks. She was not for moving, not for anything right now.

Peter contemplated the back of the seat in front of him. Parts of this weekend so far had been some of the most incredible of his life, he struggled to believe that they had happened and when he thought of them he was filled with uncontrolled joy and excitement. He adored Jenna, he wouldn’t allow himself to say anything beyond that, and to finally have her in his arms had been an overwhelming and beautiful experience. It felt dreamlike, the conclusion to a hundred fantasies he had indulged in since he met her, but it was real. Her soft skin, the taste of her lips, the way she responded to him. Jenna wanted him and he was so, so surprised. Those moments in the bath when it was over, Jenna recovering against his shoulder and silence settling over them, those moments would always stay with him for the strength of the emotion they brought to him. It had been years since making love had brought him to tears and he knew exactly why it had, but he wasn’t about to say.

He sat back in his chair and remembered yesterday evening, already seeming so far away, because of how busy they’d been today. He allowed himself a small smile of pride as he recalled the time they had spent in the bathroom and then later, rolling on the bed, suddenly confident. He had laughed easily and felt around twenty years younger as Jenna attacked him with cushions and he enacted revenge. His self-consciousness left him at long last when he surrendered under her. She had untied his robe and exposed him. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt that confident about his body but the way she had looked at him, touched him with one exploratory hand as she crawled up his length had reassured him utterly. She had kissed his chest, his stomach, noted its status as a particular erogenous zone despite his protests, and then moved further down. He definitely didn’t remember the last time that had happened. He couldn’t remember bliss that over powering.

On the plane he beamed helplessly and then ordered his mind to stop remembering lest he get himself into trouble. He shouldn’t think about these things in such detail when in public. Besides, Jenna was not on the same wavelength right now. He shifted in his seat and returned his attention to her sitting next to him. She quite different to last night when she was in turns relaxed and confident, sexy, tender and now and then vulnerable, revealing something behind her eyes he couldn’t dare to be sure of. He recognised it, he did, as the thing inside himself he ignored, he just daren’t name it yet, or ever.

She was ruminating, he could see it, and it saddened him, but he couldn’t blame her because he’d caught himself doing it too at times in the last twenty-four hours and been hauled from it by Jenna’s persistence. Their situation was too difficult not to throw up doubts and anxiety, every now and again stopping one or both of them in their tracks and paralyzing them with concern or guilt. This was her turn, he could see that, but this was also their weekend, their only one, and he didn’t want to see her so low. They were there to make memories, good ones and he would make her happy if it was the last thing he did. Guilt and worry could come later, and it would, he knew that. But if he could spend hours signing things for strangers just to make their day he could cheer up his closest friend. He contemplated an idea he had been playing with since they got on the plane, pouting his lips thoughtfully before mentally shrugging and accepting it. Why not, you only live once. The recklessness of his punk youth reared its head in response to the challenge.

Peter leaned out into the aisle of First Class and looked down from one end of the plane to the other taking note of where things like the drinks trolley and toilets were. Satisfied he knew his way around he took out one of his sketchbooks, perpetually hidden in his jackets and tore out a page, fashioning it into a bookmark with Jenna’s name at the top. From the corner of his eye he saw her shift at the sound of the tear and look at him curiously, so inside the book he scrawled a message for her and marked its place. He handed her the closed sketchbook and then excused himself, slipping down the aisle to the toilets.

He let himself in and appraised what room there was, enough he thought given they were both slim and youthful. Well he felt youthful, according to Jenna. The thought made him giggle and he leaned over the sink trying to stifle the laughter that threatened to give his whereabouts away. He couldn’t be caught, it would end their careers and relationships, but he suddenly felt like risking it for a memory so out of the ordinary. It made him feel a little bit high if he was honest. About a mile high, he thought, the giggles returning.

There was a quiet mouse like tap at the door. He opened it carefully and dragged Jenna in by one arm.

‘Anyone see you?’ he asked with all the urgency of his usual slightly manic Doctor.

Jenna looked at him incredulously, ‘Have you gone insane? ‘Meet me in the toilets in five minutes?’ What do you think you are doing?’

He leaned back as far as he could against the wall, which wasn’t far in the cramped room, and raised his eyebrows playfully. ‘What does it look like?’ he asked.

Jenna snorted, ‘Oh you are kidding. I’m feeling emotionally drained and physically exhausted and you want me to what…? Join the mile high club?’

‘Only if you want to,’ he said, ‘I personally haven’t and time’s running out for me to make opportunities…thought it might be fun. You know fun without us both or separately feeling awful about the whole thing. You went out of your way to cheer me up last night so I thought….’

‘There’s a reason we feel like that…’ she started, and it was clear she was not about to be jollied along, this tactic was backfiring. He tilted his head as he looked at her and pressed his lips together. She looked so worried, the line between her brows deeper than usual, dark circles under her eyes. Christ was this what this business was doing to her?

Peter stepped forward, took both her hands. She looked up at him with vulnerable brown eyes. ‘You want to talk?’ he asked rubbing her knuckles with his thumbs. Jenna appeared to wrestle with herself, before she sighed, tossed her head a little to get the hair from her eyes.

‘We’ve probably said everything already,’ she admitted, ‘I’m sorry. I’m jet lagged and emotional. The convention is wearing me out and it’s making everything feel worse. Except if there was no convention we wouldn’t be doing this at all and I’ve been looking forward to seeing you, to doing just this,’ she squeezed his hands and he released her, watching as she swiped her cheeks of embryonic tears.

‘I just want to be able to, I don’t know… be with you,’ she continued, ‘rather than sit here watching the clock until we touch down and I can actually be myself again. I don’t know exactly what I want to do with that time I just want the option, you know? These handlers are all over us, I want privacy. Not in a toilet…. Well maybe in a toilet, one of them tried to get in with me at the airport.’ Her mouth quirked a little, and she finally laughed to herself. ‘Oh this is crazy.’

‘I know’ he said, ‘We’re a bit restricted. So far we’re spending half our time enjoying ourselves in private and the other half experiencing… what do you young people call it? Stress or angst? We’re angsting?’

Jenna giggled, ‘Yeah we’re stressed by the world’s most unorganised convention and we’re totally angst ridden about our private lives. When I can’t just talk to you openly, I get angsty and all it would take probably is five minutes of reassurance and quick snog and I’d feel better. Sorry, sorry… you’re attempting to do adventurous sexiness in a plane and I’m…’

‘Angsting,’ he laughed.

She rolled her eyes. ‘Yup. Sexy isn’t it?’

‘So, maybe this isn’t the time for this,’ he admitted, ready to put mile high nooky on the back burner.

‘I didn’t say that,’ Jenna said suddenly and he raised his eyebrows.

‘Oh?’ he queried.

‘No, I just wasn’t expecting it. One minute I’m sitting being miserable, worrying, and the next I’m stuck in the loo with you.’

‘Better than the handler?’ he checked.

‘Yes, much,’ she smiled and her dimples reappeared. ‘See I feel better for just having that rant.’

‘So...?’ he cajoled. He could see her wavering, the little smile on her lips and then she reached behind her and locked the door. ‘Oh?’ he said raising an eyebrow again, ‘Like that is it?’ He felt a thrill run through him, she was going for it, and he’d really thought the rollercoaster of their emotions might lead to a postponement. He’d have been OK with that too but he had to admit, this was pretty exciting.

Jenna squeezed past him to the far wall, ‘Well come on then, we’ll have to be quick or someone will try and get in here and that’ll take a lot of explaining.’ She reached under her skirt and quickly removed her knickers, a sight which had him breathing faster already. Peter stepped to her, slipped his arms around her and hoisted her far enough up his body for her to wrap her legs around his hips. She clung to him, propped against the wall and held securely against his chest.

‘Oo haven’t you got suddenly strong?’ she said, ‘Must be all that time at the gym.’

‘Stop trying to appeal to my ego,’ he said.

‘Just observing,’

‘This is always how I imagined it,’ he confessed.

‘Imagined what…?’

‘You and I, I always saw us doing it against a wall somewhere.’

‘Not in a toilet though?’ she asked.

‘Not necessarily,’ he admitted with a laugh. He bent and kissed her hard with a sense of desperation and passion he hadn’t felt with Jenna as yet. Until now it had all been new, exciting, flirtatious. Now Monday was looming and time was ticking just as it was on this plane. He had to make the most of every moment, cast the blacker thoughts aside and just live for it all and he had to show her how to do the same. He undid his trousers quickly and helped Jenna to hitch up her skirt, touching her briefly where she was wet and heated before plunging into her and rocking her hard against the wall.

Jenna let her head drop back with a small ‘Oh,’ and let him have access to her neck as he moved. He brought one hand up to massage her breast through her dress, suddenly needing to worship each part of her. He could feel her levering herself up and down from his shoulders, making tiny breathy noises, needily whimpering against him. Peter dropped one hand down between them and rubbed across her sex, quickly locating her most sensitive spot and focusing his efforts.

He was getting close already, the novelty of the situation and of Jenna overwhelming him. He kissed her neck hard, resisting the urge to bite down and switched then to her mouth. She was thrusting hard down onto him now and he braced himself more sturdily against the wall as she moved, whispering to him she was nearly there, almost there…

Jenna’s orgasm hit her suddenly and he was forced to kiss her into silence as she came, but the sensation of her around him tipped him over himself and caught him by surprise so that he had to bury his face in her shoulder to cover his groan. He stiffened then thrust into her three times before the waves passed and he was left panting, sweaty and trying to untangle himself from Jenna. He gently put her down.

She was laughing, which was a delight to see but it also made him blush self-consciously as he tidied up his clothes. ‘You OK?’ he asked.

Jenna giggled and tried to straighten her dress, reach for her discarded knickers.

‘I’m fine,’ she said, ‘Are you fine? That can’t be good for your knee?’

‘Its fixed! Please tell me you didn’t spend the entire time wondering if your ancient lover could stand the pace?’

‘No, no I can tell you quite truthfully I was not thinking or wondering at all.’

‘Good,’ he said and did up his trousers.

‘I can’t believe we just did that and now we have to go back to our seats looking half respectable,’ she said.

Peter glanced in the mirror at his ruffled hair and laughed. ‘I think that may be difficult.’ Jenna reached up to try and tame it and failed miserably.

‘We’ll just say you fell asleep, got mussed up,’ she decided for him.

Jenna finished adjusting herself, smoothing her hair and wiping her smeared mascara away. She looked ridiculously perfect and undisturbed, if slightly pink. ‘You were right,’ she said gazing up at him.

‘Oh?’ he replied curiously.

‘That made an unforgettable memory,’ Jenna said softly, ‘You always make me feel better, and I don’t just mean doing stuff like this before you say anything! This stuff has only been the last couple of days really, but you’ve made me feel better, special, for the last couple of years.’

‘Jenna,’ he stroked her cheek gently and took one of her hands again.

‘Well… you have. You mean the world to me, you know that right? But that’s enough emotional chat,’ Jenna smiled a little too hard before he could answer, ‘I just wanted you to know, a little bit about what you mean to me, without getting all super intense.’

He watched her for a second before he took a deep breath. ‘We will talk, I promise. A proper talk about all of it, before this weekend is over.’

She nodded, clearly still emotional but then quickly squared her shoulders and smiled.

‘We’d best get back,’ she said, ‘Fellow mile high club member!’

The pause between them was heavy and bittersweet.

‘Ok,’ he said quietly.

Peter bent to kiss her firmly again and then flicked open the lock on the door. Jenna kept hold of his hand as she squeezed past and checked the coast was clear, before letting go and disappearing down the corridor.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mature content and mature dilemmas

The second of their hotels on the tour was modern. Clean lines, crisp cotton, largely white. By the time they had finally arrived and survived the customs and passport checks before getting the cab over there, it was late and they were struggling with jet lag and lack of sleep in general. Jenna stood in her room looking at the kingsized bed and sent a quick text to Peter inviting him round. No shared bathroom here to stumble over one another so he needed to be summoned. While she waited she dumped her bag by the dresser and took a quick look in the mirror. Not that it mattered, Peter had seen her exhausted before. She briefly tried to tidy her hair and practiced a smile. She thought she looked different somehow, but couldn’t quite place it. Under his spell perhaps.

He appeared minutes later looking worn out and mussed up, apologising for generally being a mess and the possibility that he might be both irritable and of no use to her. Jenna laughed, she didn’t think she’d ever really seen him irritable. Even at his most tired he was unerringly pleasant to everyone. He peeled off his jacket and T-shirt with no hint of the self conscious and she was pleased. Either he trusted her or he was too tired to care. She hoped it was the former.

Jenna ordered him to get under the covers while she got ready herself in the bathroom. He slid under without protest and waited in the dim light. Jenna brushed her teeth and debated a t-shirt before deciding it was too hot. Secretly it was the skin on skin she craved. She was tired and wanted cuddles and told him so when she re-joined him. Peter laughed in relief and collapsed back against the pillow thankfully, because really after their escapade in the plane a few hours before he had zero energy for a repeat episode as much as he enjoyed it. Jenna thanked the deities dramatically, she was no better than him, and climbed under the covers. Peter wrapped himself naked around her and dozed off in moments. It felt so good, so easy and peaceful. No pressure, no expectations, just this innate understanding the pair of them always seemed to have.

Part way through the night she woke and stared into the half-light listening closely for the rhythm of Peter’s breathing. When she could hear him she focused in on the sound, feeling a ball of happiness form inside her and a wide smile break out on her face. Lying there, in the middle of the night, safe, comfortable, with no immediate pressing need to move, she could pretend that this was a regular occurrence. How wonderful that would be; maybe in another life.

She rolled and looked up at him from mid-way up his chest, pressing her lower half against him, one leg between his. The summer morning was just around the corner and the grey light highlighted his high cheekbones and roman nose. Jenna softly kissed his breastbone, savouring each moment that he was hers. He smelled so good, aftershave and skin, something masculine and basic which appealed to her, led her to open her mouth a little and taste him. He let out a soft pleasurable sound and wrapped his arm around her, curling to kiss her hair.

She was surprised to feel tears spring to her eyes at the unconscious gentle act, but there in the darkness it was easy to think of what might be, of what shouldn’t and of what inevitably would. She would have to let him go, and she could count down the hours until when. Why couldn’t a night like this last longer, or be somehow frozen in time for her always to go back to when things were hardest or she felt most alone. Why wasn’t he hers? They were so good for each other.

He moved again and his hand rubbed down over her spine. She could feel his hardness pressing against her belly and she deliberately shifted against him. Smiling she shuffled up the bed a little and pressed an open mouth kiss to his lips. A moan, and a tightening of the arm around her didn’t give her warning enough when he suddenly rolled her so that she lay on top of him, settled his hands around her buttocks.

‘Oh,’ she whispered, ‘Being lazy are you?’

‘I think you’ll find I did most of the work on the plane,’ his voice was rough with sleep, ‘My leg muscles vouch for this, I’m not sure I can walk.’

Jenna giggled, ‘Over done it have we?’

‘Shut up.’

She leaned forward and kissed him deeply, felt him wriggle under her and her body respond. Jenna sat up, removing the covers, and straddled his hips, reaching down to grasp him. She saw him tip his head back and gasp before gripping her pelvis more firmly and making his desire quite obvious. Jenna held off for a moment, teasing him with her fingers before finally allowing him to sink into her.

‘Jenna… God you’re beautiful,’ he ran his hands up over her curves, cupped her breasts as she moved. ‘Why didn’t we do this before?’ his question sounded like a mantra and she wondered how often he had asked himself something similar in the last few days. She kissed him again, his mouth and neck and heard him whisper, ‘I should have done this before…’

The words were almost too much for her and she detected something in his voice which echoed her feelings but she was too afraid to ask. She daren’t think, or feel beyond the physical stimulation they were sharing. She was glad it was dark, glad she couldn’t really see his face or look into his eyes. It would break her, she could feel it coming and she just prayed she could survive until she was back in her own house on Monday, where it could happen privately, where he wouldn’t see or feel guilty. Because on the one hand she was so grateful to have these few hours, while on the other she knew they came before the worst kind of pain.

She brought him moaning to his conclusion and leaned panting on top of him until he spun her in his arms and kissed her as they lay together. He nuzzled her neck and carefully touched her breasts, kissing down her body a little and aiming to touch lower. She sensed he wanted to work her desire to a peak, but something in her said no. She didn’t need that sort of caress right now and she lifted his hand away, kissed it and held it still to her chest.

‘Jenna?’ he queried.

‘Just tired,’ she reassured, ‘Let’s sleep.’

He paused and she realised she could see more of him now that the light was growing. ‘You sure?’ he asked, concerned, his eyes a beautiful silver grey. ‘You’re OK?’

She smiled and nodded, quickly ducked her head and snuggled against him and Peter wrapped his arms around her just as she wanted. She had to make memories, he’d said, and she needed some of these. Quiet, comforting memories of being held in his arms.

Now she was coming to and he was nowhere to be seen or felt. Jenna carefully opened her eyes to the bright morning sun and peered over her shoulder at where he had been for the best part of the night. Her heart sank a little to be left alone. She had pictured a slow wake up under the cool white sheets. Something unhurried and romantic before the chaos of the day. Instead there was no sign of him so she rolled over onto her back and felt her mood drop. She was pouting to herself when the door clicked open. She looked over to see him dressed but not shaved, a sign he had been in a hurry.

‘Oh you’re awake,’ he said, ‘Sorry I had to nip out and make my room look lived in for the night. Ruffle a few sheets.’

‘God, is that all? You’re getting good at this sneaking about,’ she said, relieved, ‘I was thinking all sorts.’

‘Let me guess. I’d changed my mind? It’s all been a terrible let down?’

Jenna blushed a little, he was right, she was almost constantly plagued with those types of thoughts this weekend. ‘Maybe,’ was all she said. He gave her a sympathetic smile and approached the bed, crawling over the vast mattress to where she was sitting up wrapped in white sheet.

‘Today looks busy’ he said, ‘We’re not going to get much time to ourselves, but I don’t want you to worry. Try to enjoy it… please.‘

‘It’s all just going so quickly,’ she sighed. ‘We’re on day two already, tonight we fly on again, one more set of events tomorrow and then we’re back on the flight home. I just didn’t think it would go so fast. We’ve barely any time together…’

‘Apart from all the time we spend together all day,’ he corrected.

‘You know what I mean,’ she replied in mock despair. ‘Tonight’s actually our last night once we touch down. And I’m betting we will be knackered. God, we’re a complete pair. Here were are on a dirty weekend and we’re so bloody tired from the day job we’re not up to it.’

‘Speak for yourself! I’ll keep myself suitably caffeinated,’ he promised.

‘Oh no, you’re not going to start tanking _Red Bull_ again. I’ve seen what that does,’ she warned.

‘I will do anything to make this work,’ Peter assured her, ‘We need to make it as special as we can. Even if that means I need to drink ten cans of that stuff to have enough energy to please you at the end of the day.’

She laughed a little and then it faded. Jenna looked at him and at the fatigue around his eyes. ‘One more night and it’s all over, isn’t it?’ she said quietly.

His smile faltered.                                        

‘How can that be?’ Jenna asked, ‘We’ve only just started.’

‘It has to be,’ he told her and kissed one of her hands. There was an emptiness to his tone she didn’t like. ‘We have to make the most of it,’ he said almost by rote, ‘because tomorrow its signings and panels and photos and planes. And then we’re back in our own separate lives, and if we don’t do that, well… I don’t think I’d manage to leave you alone at all.’

He let go of her hand, focused his gaze again. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘You need to eat, come and get breakfast.’

 

Even breakfast was hijacked by fans. Normally not a problem or an irritation but today Jenna just wanted to drink coffee and talk to Peter. Not even about anything serious just spend some time, doing something normal, looking over the view from the hotel window in the sun.

Instead she was posing for pictures with grown men dressed as cybermen and tiny children disguised as TARDISes. After a while it was clear Peter was in more demand than her which at least allowed her to drink her coffee in relative peace, sitting to one side in the dining area and watching the endless procession of convention goers. Not all could afford tickets to the photoshoots, and some had missed out on the limited numbers so they hung around hopefully. Peter of course would not let anyone down.

It went on all day like that. Hours before the official shoot he could be found in the lobby posing with those unfortunate enough not to have tickets. The convention organisers looked rather stricken at missed opportunities for cash, but Jenna thought but it was a genuinely nice thing to do and no-one was causing any trouble.

Near the end of proceedings, with the halls emptying and their lift to the airport hovering nearby anxiously, Jenna caught sight of him with another couple and their baby. She had no idea why this particular family caught her eye, perhaps it was the obvious age gap between the woman and her older partner that made her do a double take. She watched as they handed Peter the child, dressed as a miniature weeping angel of all things and lined up either side of him to pose. He was a natural with kids, always, it made her melt a little, but so did his kindness.

Several cans of Red Bull and no food into the day and he had the patience to do this for the fans. To hold their squirming baby and calm it while the photo was taken so that the family were guaranteed a good shot. He was unendingly thoughtful, and now he was being nice to babies. Surely he knew what that did to a girl? Jenna chuckled to herself in despair, she had it bad, really bad, if this was the pattern of her thinking. Peter and babies was an impossibility that should never even enter her thoughts. She was a mess of hormones and she needed to get a grip.

On Monday. This was their last night. She could allow herself to indulge and wallow and gaze with rose tinted glasses for one more night. She watched as Peter said goodbye to the couple and joined her at last.

‘All done,’ he said rubbing his brow wearily. He hadn’t sat down all day, but insisted she had.

‘You’re struggling aren’t you?’

‘It’s old age,’ he smiled.

‘Don’t be daft, it’s this event. It’s like a treadmill.’

Peter held out his hand and she watched it tremble with excessive caffeine.

‘I think I need some proper food,’ he said.

‘No chance of that, plane to catch,’ jenny said sadly. Peter took a deep strengthening breath and closed his eyes.

‘Right,’ he said, ‘Right.’ There was just the slightest hint of something in his voice, a tell that he wasn’t his usual optimistic self, but then it vanished as quickly as it appeared and he opened his eyes again. ‘Better get going then,’ he stooped and retrieved his bag from under one of the tables.

Jenna put her hand on his arm and he turned to look down at her, ‘Hmm?’

‘You alright?’ she asked.

‘Yes, yes, fine.’

‘You’d tell me?’

‘Of course I’d tell you, but like I say, it’s just age,’ he slipped an arm round her shoulder and guided her to the exit where the handlers were waiting, conspicuously looking at their watches. Jenna glanced up at his face, saw his features fall into a sad repose.

‘Peter?’ she pushed. He swallowed.

‘I think when we get to our next destination we need to have that conversation. It’ll be our last chance before the chaos of tomorrow, the con, the flights. We won’t get the opportunity to sit down and… plan.’

‘Plan? What are we planning?’

He looked straight ahead of him. ‘What we’re going to do. How we’re going to manage things…’

Jenna frowned at him, ‘What do you mean? I’m sorry I just, I need things spelling out right now, vague references make me panic.’

He smiled and looked down at his feet as they walked. ‘Sorry. I mean which direction we go in. I told you this was a one off weekend.’

‘Yes?’ Jenna’s heartrate doubled at his hesitation.

‘What if… what if it isn’t,’ he asked cautiously, testing her response. ‘I can’t believe I’m saying this… it’s such a mess in my head. I’m tired and jet lagged and everything’s skewed and I shouldn’t even be thinking like this. That’s why we need to talk, properly, undistracted. But the more I think about things the more I… We need to discuss this properly,’ he said again, closing himself down before his feelings could run away with him.

Jenna stared at him in disbelief. ‘Would that be OK?’ he asked. ‘I mean if it wasn’t just a weekend, is that something you’d consider? You don’t need to answer, just… can we talk about it?’

It was what she had wanted to hear, in her dreams, in her fantasies, when she lay next to him in bed, but Jenna knew what that kind of conversation entailed, what kind of pain they could both cause. Could they justify that, really, truly?

‘We’ll talk,’ she said.


	16. Chapter 16

What the hell was he doing? From the plane to hotel number three and his room on the third floor he questioned himself again and again. Just what exactly did he think he was going to say to Jenna? What did he think he was going to suggest? He was a married man, a very married man. One of these most married men of his peer group. A thirty year relationship that was known widely as unshakable, a wife he adored, who never ceased to entertain, support and challenge him in all the right ways. A woman who had given him the freedom to act out his fantasy this weekend and who he was now betraying because he couldn’t bear to end things with a girl half his age.

He shouldn’t have started things to begin with, that would be the argument most people with any sense would point him towards. He had clearly lost his mind, been swept up in Jenna’s flattery, had his ego stoked just by the sight of her, the sound of her, wanting him, making love with him. It wasn’t real, it wasn’t enduring, it was a thing of fantasy. He should absolutely finish it as originally planned and go home. He couldn’t suggest anything else, there were no other options.

But he wanted other options. Peter shut his eyes in the back of the cab and leaned against the head rest, blocking out the sight of Jenna beside him, fiddling with her phone, her hair tucked behind one ear and her face lit with the coloured screen. He wanted to discuss it, to tell her what she meant to him, how he felt. How did he feel? He couldn’t tell anymore, he just knew it was as strong a feeling as any he’d ever felt for a woman and that terrified him because that included Elaine. He groaned and rubbed his brow eliciting an enquiry from Jenna. She touched his thigh.

‘You OK? You don’t look so good,’ she said.

‘Headache,’ he said truthfully, ‘I feel like my brain has turned to mush.’

‘What did I say about the red bull,’ Jenna said trying to keep her voice light. She knew once they got to the hotel the ‘conversation’ would start. She hadn’t said anything that wasn’t neutral on the topic since he had asked if they could talk, he couldn’t tell what she was thinking, or if he was about to get his heart broken.

They would talk. He felt anxiety in his chest. What was he going to say? He’d requested this deep and meaningful and now he couldn’t get his head to work. He was exhausted, almost paralysing so, and as such torn between what he ought to say and what he wanted. His id was winning so far. His baser desires, right now for a meal and a glass of wine, followed by bed with the beautiful girl next to him. For all he tried to wrestle with those images he couldn’t think of any other option.

He felt the cab pull up and realised he had been in a strange half doze populated with thoughts of his infidelity. He jerked fully awake and Jenna patted his arm soothingly as he blinked owlishly in the back of the cab and got his bearings. Stiffly he dragged himself off the seat and up the stairs of the hotel with Jenna behind him. They made their way inside, carrying their bags and were shown to their separate rooms by the staff. Yet another room, another tip, another quick glance around the facilities. This one was decked out in blacks and greys, very masculine. He wondered briefly if Jenna’s room, just down the corridor, was pink.

Peter unpacked his bag a little and removed his jacket. He scrutinised his face in the mirror of the bedroom and considered shaving. Fatigue made him quickly reconsider although he was producing quite the growth by now. He didn’t imagine Jenna appreciated it much on her smooth skin. That was enough to change his mind and he extracted his razor from his bag. Shower and shave first or after dinner. He wanted to share one or both with Jenna but wasn’t sure he’d last the distance into the evening, it was already nine o’clock, and they had another early start the following day.

Tomorrow would be awful. He paused and leaned on the dresser. The early start, the morning of convention duties and the flight back to London. All of these could be accompanied by awkward silence or worse depending on what happened tonight, on what was said. He was suddenly frightened. He was going to mess this up, all of it. There was no way of doing this right, of avoiding hurting someone. Somebody would be betrayed, let down. He had no right to do that to anyone let alone two people he loved.

Because he did love her. He loved Jenna. The realisation had hit him that weekend. From the moment he held her in his arms and kissed her properly for the first time, made love to her, curled himself around her in the night and spent precious minutes watching her sleep.

He always knew he cared, he always knew he was perhaps a little more fond of her than most co-stars. He knew their relationship was unique and unusual, that they were strangely evenly matched in so many ways, that they had an innate understanding of how the other worked. He knew their humour was as bad as each other’s, and that they brought joy into one another’s lives, enriched themselves, trusted completely, flirted and played and pranked one another. They supported each another, were fiercely protective and had one another’s backs at all costs.

But he had never, ever allowed himself to recognise the feeling at the root of it all. He never allowed himself to name it. He would have continued in that vein forever if it hadn’t been for these two days. Maybe he should have, maybe he was full now of regret, maybe he would have regretted it more if these two days had never happened.

The plan was to _carpe diem_ , live the dream, spend his weekend with Jenna and get it all out of his system. That was what Elaine had suggested what seemed like eons ago. He didn’t know if he was kidding himself when he had agreed. Did he know deep down this would happen? Because the plan was backfiring. Did Elaine know it would happen like this? She seemed to predict everything else, he’d never once known her to be wrong. Why would she encourage him if she knew how he really felt about Jenna?

He wished he could call her. Elaine wasn’t only his wife she had been his best friend since he was twenty-five. Her advice and guidance had got him through so many difficult situations, so many dark and miserable days when he felt worthless. The times he couldn’t find work, the times he couldn’t pay the mortgage, the decisions she’d made and the direction she’d pointed him in had not only saved the family home but his career, his self-belief, his ego. She believed in him and right now he needed someone who did just that.

He looked at his watch. It was the middle of the night for Elaine and he used it as a reason not to call. The truth was she would answer the phone to him at any time, if he needed her, if he was struggling, but he couldn’t face the conversation. As much as he wanted to hear her voice and receive familiar comfort he couldn’t justify telling her what was going through his mind. How on earth was he supposed to do that? She was his rock, she didn’t deserve any of this, she didn’t deserve for their solid unwavering marriage to be put under threat by his vanity. That’s what it was wasn’t it? Vanity? A pretty young woman showing him attention?

He didn’t believe it. Jenna was so much more, she’d become such a huge part of his world. She was all day, every day. She was every shared experience on the show, and so many outside of that. The last months apart from her had been colourless somehow, empty and painful. He missed her sparkle, her humour, her kindness. She called him her best friend forever, wound him up with her ‘youth speak’ and her texts, but beneath that teasing banter between them he had discovered such a well of feeling in the last two days. How could he walk away from something so special?

He was getting nowhere with his thoughts and he caught himself grasping handfuls of his hair and roughly running his fingers through it in frustration. He closed his eyes and tried to will his emotions under control but before he had much success there was a gentle knock at the door. Jenna, as instructed had come to join him for a room service dinner and a talk.

Peter padded across the room and let her in, watched as she inspected the masculine decor.

‘Don’t think much of the grey,’ she said, ‘Not very welcoming.’

‘Right now any bed is welcoming,’ he said flopping onto it. She sat by him and fished the room service menu from the bedside table.

‘I know, you must be knackered. You need to eat though. No sleeping until you’ve done that.’

He heard her flip through the pages while he focused on the soft feel of the sheets under him. He could just lay there and doze. He could just ignore the bigger questions until another day. Tomorrow, they still had some of tomorrow. He could put it off.

He felt Jenna lie down next to him and peer at his face. She threaded a finger through his shirt buttons and wiggled it against his chest.

‘Hey, wake up,’ she whispered and inched forward. He squinted at her.

‘I’m not asleep,’ he said.

‘Good, because we have dinner to get,’ she smiled and it faltered slightly, ‘And you wanted to talk?’

Peter sighed and put one arm around her, drawing her closer to him lest his words drive her away and he lost her.

‘I do, or I don’t. I don’t know. I know what I should do… say…’

Jenna frowned, ‘Ok you’re so tired you make no sense.’

He snorted, ‘Yeah.’

‘You asked me before, what I thought about this, you and me, being more than a one off weekend.’

‘I did,’ he said cautiously. He was suddenly a lot more awake, on tenterhooks for every word they were about to speak.

‘Is that what you want?’ Jenna asked. She was deceptively calm, her face relaxed, but he knew her too well. He could see the nerves beneath the surface.

‘I… I’m really not sure,’ he swiped a hand across his forehead and then lay with it balanced there, staring up at the ceiling. ‘I want more than this weekend, but I don’t know how that fits with my life. If it fits. How it won’t just hurt people. But I want it. God, that’s so selfish, but I really do. Every time I try and talk myself out of it and be practical I just end up wanting it again.’

He saw Jenna nod, pick at his shirt. ‘What do you want?’ he asked carefully.

‘I want to feel like I’ve felt this weekend,’ she confessed without eye contact. ‘The good bits anyway. The bad bits are terrible. But the highs, being with you, having you to myself, God I could exist just on those for years.’ She looked up at him and shrugged, ‘I’m aware how pathetic that sounds.’

‘You deserve more that snatched moments,’ Peter said.

‘If they’re all I can get….’

‘Oh Jenna, no. Deceit, lies, ‘sneaking about’ as you put it this morning. It’s not fair on anyone least of all you, or me… or our partners.’

‘But that’s the only way we could do this, without a massive fallout,’ she said, ‘I can’t believe we are even discussing this. I always swore I’d have more self-respect than to be ‘the other woman.’

‘Is that what we’re looking at?’ Peter asked slightly horrified.

‘Well you aren’t going to leave Elaine,’ Jenna said. The words stung him, came out rather too bluntly and he flinched. ‘Sorry, but… well I just don’t see you doing that, so the best I’ll get is, the other woman, bit on the side, however you want to term it.’

‘I don’t want to term it like any of those,’ he replied, voice low and distressed despite his best effort to control it, ‘It’s not like that, the way I feel about you… it’s not cheap, don’t cheapen it.’

Jenna’s eyes registered her surprise and she flushed. ‘Sorry… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t think you think of me that way; Peter you’ve only ever been a gentleman….’

‘Except for cheating on my wife,’ he groaned.

There was a horrible silence, Peter laying unmoved with Jenna still tucked under his arm, watching his face closely for clues as to how to progress. He could feel her anxiety, see it in the way she bit her lower lip. She’d be on her nails next, a habit she had only just kicked. He rubbed her back.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘I don’t know what I’m doing, what I’m asking for. I can’t think.’

‘I don’t want to decide tonight,’ Jenna said quietly, ‘Tonight is all we have left, I don’t want to spent it arguing or upsetting one another. We can decide another time, we only get one chance at this evening and then it’s gone. It could be all we get… please.’

He nodded unable to reply and she caught the movement and the reason for it. Jenna inched forward again until she was close to his face and gently kissed his lips before drawing back and running a hand down his cheek. She smiled with a bit of difficulty.

‘You need a shave,’ she said.

‘I was thinking that.’

‘Am I not even worth a shave?’ she complained with a grin. There were tears in her eyes.

He knew she was jesting, trying to pull them away from the subject, but for the words filled him with sadness. What was she worth? Best friend? Partner? The demise of his marriage? Or a secret weekend in a hotel, one he couldn’t even be bothered shaving for?

‘Well?’ she nudged him trying to maintain her cheer. He sighed and turned his head to look at her, suddenly compelled to be entirely open.

‘Oh Jenna you’re worth so much more than that, you’ve no idea, what you mean to me, what you’re really worth; you’re worth everything, ’ he said, ‘I just can’t give it to you.’

Her smile gave way and he saw her try desperately to hold off more tears. After a moment Peter felt her place a finger over his lips gently. ‘Stop,’ she said, her voice cracking, ‘Please stop, at least until tomorrow. Please just let us have this for tonight.’


	17. Chapter 17

This was it then, the last time. It didn’t seem real, couldn’t be real; she’d only been with him one weekend, how could it possibly be over? Jenna watched Peter struggle with himself, a wave of torn emotion crossing his face as he debated what to do. He had a wife and now he had Jenna and it was hurting him, an impossible choice.

‘You’re worth everything,’ he said, ‘I just can’t give it to you.’

‘Stop,’ Jenna said, ‘Please stop, at least until tomorrow. Please just let us have this for tonight.’ She placed a finger over his lips and he fell silent. His mouth felt soft under her touch and she slowly cupped his jaw, running her fingertips along it, memorising the feel of skin and stubble. She would have to memorise it all; just in case.

She wanted him. In an ideal world, in another life there would be no complications and she would dive head first into the relationship without a qualm in sight. They were perfect for one another, she could have no doubt. She loved him, probably from the moment they met, certainly after about three days at work, and she suspected those feelings were strong enough to last. In an ideal world she would love him always; in this world she would too but perhaps without him.

He was hurting and that changed everything, because she hated it. There had been times when they had worked together when he had felt low or lost and she had comforted him, just as he had done for her, but this time, this time she was the cause. If she offered comfort it felt hypocritical. Jenna and his feelings for her were causing havoc with his heart. Stable, settled, happy Peter was currently lying next to her feeling nothing but guilt and confusion. He was never like this, an eternal optimist now laid low by what they had been doing. It wasn’t fair. It was her fault.

Jenna reluctantly removed her hand from his face.

‘I don’t think either of us are in a very good place tonight,’ Jenna said.

‘No, we’re not,’ he whispered sadly, ‘What I think I want, what I should do, it’s confused, I can’t… I don’t have an answer.’

‘Me neither, I don’t know what to do. Can we just forget it, until tomorrow?’ her voice sounded higher than normal and slightly desperate and she hated it for betraying her. Please just one more night.

To her surprise Peter laughed, a short sound without humour. ‘Delay the inevitable? Tomorrow we either vow never to do this again and feel terrible or make plans that will hurt our loved ones by having an affair.’

‘Not necessarily an affair…’

‘What else would you call it?’ he asked and she could see his distress rising again.

She couldn’t bear it and quickly Jenna leaned forward, kissed him to stop the words. She pulled back and looked into his eyes and her heart tripped at what she saw there.

‘Peter?’ she whispered. There was a beat and then she felt him surge around her like waves, his hands holding her tight against him before tangling in her hair, directing her, allowing him to kiss deep and hard. She heard him whimper as his lips pressed against hers, needy, desperate, angling his hips up and into her, encouraging her legs to part with one knee.

He rolled her quickly and she gave into his strength, wanting to be moved and guided, wanting to bring him pleasure the way he needed, wanting to be his. His hand was at her top, pushing up and under, grasping her breast, travelling around her back to the clasps of her bra. Jenna heard him grunt as he pressed against her, hard already, and the sound went through her. Her top was peeled from her and discarded, and she could feel Peter’s mouth on her skin, tasting, sucking gently and then with more vigour. She suddenly wanted to be marked and something primitive ran through her, channelling to her sex, wetting her. Her breath came in gasps and she threaded her fingers through his thick hair to push him down; further down.

Between kisses he had managed to unbutton his shirt and Jenna slid her hands down over his hair and neck, to his shoulders and under his collar. Peter wriggled and the shirt was gone with only a moments break in his rhythm. His hands slid over her hips and immediately under her skirt, pulling her to him. Jenna could feel his stubble slide over her inner thigh and parted her legs but the skirt was restricting and tight. Clumsily she fiddled with the zip and button, trying to free herself from the garment, and cursed, flopping her head back on the bed in frustration. She heard Peter giggle from somewhere around her thighs and she looked down to see him grinning at her.

‘You’re spoiling the mood,’ she said smiling. He made the bad things go away with that smile, he made everything better.

‘ _I’m_ spoiling the mood? I’m _generating_ the mood. You’re cursing and failing to get out of your skirt. That’s not how these things are supposed to go.’

‘What things exactly?’

‘Oh you know, epic sex after some sort of big emotional scene.’

Jenna rolled her eyes, ‘How can you possibly take the piss out of this? It’s not make believe, it’s not a _scene_. This is serious. We have serious things to address and it’s upsetting and you’re just… laughing.’

Peter’s smile softened, revealed just a little of the pain behind it, ‘That’s why I’m laughing, you silly girl, I have to or… I just have to,’ he finished sadly.

Jenna felt the sharp sting of tears come to her eyes suddenly. ‘But this might be… we might not get to do this again. I just want it to be perfect. Just one night.’

‘Oh Jenna,’ Peter crawled back up her body until he was looking down into her face. ‘Nothing’s ever perfect darling.’

Jenna’s lip was trembling and she wished not for the first time that she could will it away, that she could just be in the moment, but it was so hard. Especially with Peter leaning over her like that, warm and close, his feelings as exposed as they ever would be and those eyes. She could hardly look at those eyes.

So she didn’t. She brought her arms up and around him and pulled him close, shut her eyes and kissed his neck, his jaw, his lips. She clung to him and he gave her what she needed instinctively just like she knew he would, because ultimately they were so similar they might as well have been the same.

At her waist she felt him flick open the button of her skirt, draw down the zip. Jenna lifted herself up and felt her remaining clothes come away, felt Peter kiss down her body again, heard his whispered reassurances. She had to focus in that moment, forget the coming morning and the return flight to England. None of that existed, just tonight. Every second of it had to be recorded, every touch remembered, because there was a chance that this would be all, and she shouldn’t remember it through a cloud of tears but with joy.

Peter’s mouth was on her and the acute pleasure was building fast. Jenna tensed and relaxed again as he worked her, at times forgetting to breathe, her hands grasping him, the sheets, her own breast. Her heightened emotions only served to increase the pleasure, she closed her eyes and saw stars in darkness. In minutes she was saying his name over and over, begging and grinding hard into the mattress, pinned by his arms. When she came the darkness lifted for a moment and the stars sparkled in perfect white light.

He kissed her back down to the ground, gently smoothed her hair and touched her face as he came to lie beside her still half dressed. Jenna turned instinctively to be in his arms, kissed his lips and felt a thrill of arousal at the taste. He moaned and allowed his hands to track down over her curves, find again that spot between her legs and made her gasp. Jenna pulled away.

‘Hey, your turn I think,’ she said, her hands on his belt. He didn’t protest, his desire evident in the darkness of his eyes and flush of his skin. She quickly undid belt and trousers and removed his clothes below the waist, dropping immediately to kiss the softness of his belly. Peter arched immediately under her tongue, quiet declarations of pleasure coming from his lips. Jenna drew patterns on his skin, nuzzled the trail of hair, kissed and nipped her way to her goal. She could feel him tensing but not with his old self consciousness. Instead he seemed to be encouraging her with his body, subtly trying to change her direction. How far he had journeyed in one weekend.

Jenna followed his hints to where felt best and was rewarded with a louder sound, slipping from his throat unbidden. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him grasp the bedsheets with one hand, witnessed his abdominal muscles clench. She carefully shifted her position, ran the very tip of her tongue along the underside of his cock and listened for the pant above her. He was straining under her, aroused from pleasing her, from what she did now, and from the high emotions running between them.

‘Jenna… Please…’ his voice was hoarse. Jenna blew gently on the tip of him and felt him wriggle. He let out a groan as she did it again. ‘Please..’

Her mouth closed over him and she relaxed her throat. Under her Peter fought with his hips, restrained himself with difficulty as she began to move, creating tension, sweeping her tongue over and around him. Soon she could taste him leaking, closing in on his release and she pulled back with a final swirling movement. Jenna looked up at him, to where he was lying flushed and tense, his brow furrowed. She let her fingers wrap around him and slowly pumped him while she watched his response. He jerked up under her hand and let out a deep growl.

‘God, please… I need…’

Jenna straddled him, leaned down to capture his lips but he was quick off the mark and rolled her over again, pressed himself between her legs urgently. He was kissing her desperately, his hips moving in waves against her and his heart thundering where her hands stroked his chest. She wanted him, she just wanted him and opened herself to him as he thrust. She felt him take hold of himself and guide their bodies together, moaning deep and long as they joined.

She had to watch him, she reminded herself, it might be her only chance. Jenna lifted her hands to his face as he moved, his eyes closed in focus, his skin damp. Remember. Remember each movement, how he felt deep inside her, how he filled her. Remember the scent of his skin and his sweat, the taste of his lips. Remember the tightening knot of arousal he generated inside her.

He opened his eyes and looked at her, clear, open vulnerable gaze.

Remember that. Remember the way he looked at you; because you might never see it again.

‘Peter,’ she repeated, urging him into her, holding him to her. He was calling her darling, his steady rhythm starting to falter and his gasps almost painful with the need to finish. She tightened around him, thrust down hard, whispered against his ear.

‘Come for me, Peter, baby, come on, let it happen, please… please Peter, I love you.’

His faltering fast movements suddenly halted and he let out a hard shout, his breath stopping momentarily as he clung to her. Gradually he folded in on himself, softening, slipping from her body and coming to a rest on her shoulder. Jenna held his head against her and kissed his temple. She almost dreaded the first words as she realised just what she had said. 

He moved slightly and leaned on his elbow, gazing down at her with something close to curiosity.

‘Sorry,’ she said, unsure why she should apologise for her feelings but feeling she must. He wasn’t hers, he belonged to Elaine, she had no right to love him.

Again he reached out with one of those long beautiful pianist’s hands and touched her face. ‘Jenna, Oh god. where do I start… if things were different…’ he stopped and held up the hand, spun his wedding ring with his thumb. His face was the picture of dilemma, of a reluctant realisation, and he sighed hard, as though all the life was leaving him. He stayed for a moment looking at the ring.

‘I should never have said it…’ he said.

‘Said what?’

‘I should never have asked if you’d consider more than a weekend.’

Jenna felt her heartrate rise with anxiety. ‘Why?’ she heard herself ask.

‘Because even if you would consider it… I shouldn’t. Even if I want to, and I do, I made vows, and I mustn’t,’ The words were painful, dragged from him by circumstance. He looked at her with regret in his eyes and she had never seen anything so sad.

‘Are you saying… this was a mistake?’ she asked.

His pause was a second too long. ‘I… I don’t know,’ he said truthfully, ‘No, not a mistake, not something as simple as that.’

‘Then what? What are you saying because I’m getting nothing but mixed signals?’ she sat up so that she was the one looking down on him. ‘You ask if I want more than a weekend then you say it isn’t possible; you say you wish you’d done this earlier but then you wonder if you should have done it at all. What am I supposed to do with that? How am I supposed to feel?’

‘It’s not about what we feel it’s about what we do,’ he said flatly, the animation leaving him, the light seeming to die from those bright features. 'The clock’s striking twelve, Jenna, we’re about to turn back into mice and pumpkins. Tomorrow we have to go home. Do you really think this can carry on? Because please, if you have any bright ideas, do tell me… I’d consider them.’

She swallowed, watched the sadness creep over his face. He was right. It couldn’t continue, it had been a pipe dream stoked by hope. He had Elaine, she had Richard, and they were worlds apart. But it wasn’t fair. She was emotional and tired, she was wrung out with thinking about what to do. Jenna felt a rush of injustice and childish disappointment. He was hers, all that time they spent together, all the fun they’d had, no-one would ever share that, no-one had that kind of connection with him. It wasn’t fair, and…

…and she was crying, crying hard now. The exhaustion and the jet lag just added to the chimes of the clock. It was over. It was really over. It never really got to be. It wasn’t enough.

She felt Peter sit up beside her and slip his arms around her, hold her close. All she could think was he’d never hold her like that again and the tears came faster.

‘I’m sorry,’ she heard him whisper, ‘I was stupid to suggest it, stupid to hope there was some way of making this work. Maybe I should never have come here at all. But there’s nothing else I can do, I can’t betray Elaine, I can’t do that to my wife. I love you Jenna but…’

She felt his chest hitch behind her and she knew he was hurting just as much, maybe more. He would blame and torment himself until he was paralysed with regret and guilt. And she would sob, curl against his chest and cry until her lungs burned. She knew that she forgave him and understood his choice, but it didn’t stop her heart from breaking.

They were both responsible and both of them would pay the price. Maybe one day they would enjoy the memories but for now it was agony. Jenna felt Peter guide her down onto the bed where he wrapped himself around her for the last time. A few more hours and it would be dawn; the weekend would be over.


	18. Chapter 18

She had finally fallen asleep just after sunrise and for a long time the tears lingered on her lashes. Peter gently wiped her cheeks and tucked her hair behind her ear. He wondered if he had ever felt pain quite like this, ever seen anyone cry so hard and so long. Now he felt empty and wretched and to blame. He felt trapped; between Jenna and Elaine there was no safe way to proceed without hurting one or both, and he would hurt no matter what he did.

His head was splitting from fatigue and dehydration and they would have to get up soon to complete the third day of their tour, so he slowly eased himself up being careful not to disturb her. He padded to the bathroom and filled a glass with water, took some pills, stared at himself in the mirror unshaven and red eyed. The fans would be getting some great shots today. Two over tired emotional celebrities going through the motions. They deserved more than that, he’d have to pull out all the stops and do what he was apparently good at. Act.

Peter stepped back into the bedroom and began to dress, his clothes still distributed around the room at random. His thoughts were heavy and clouded, focused on surviving the day. He was so busy wondering how he would be with Jenna today, if she would even speak to him, that he didn’t notice her waking. He turned to collect his shirt and saw her sitting up in bed, surrounded by a sea of covers. His mind went blank.

‘Hi,’ she said quietly.

‘Hi,’ he echoed awkwardly. She looked down at the bed, ran a hand through her hair and then glanced up at him cautiously. She looked tiny and vulnerable, unsure of what he was about to say or do. His heart swelled and he was suddenly so sorry, so responsible for that unhappiness. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed and reached out for her hand.

‘We need to get through today, even if you do it on autopilot,’ he said and she nodded. She was pale, so pale, and her lips were dry. ‘And you need to eat something, drink something at least,’ he added when she shook her head at the idea of breakfast. ‘Do you need anything? Water? Painkillers? I know I have a headache.’

Jenna laughed painfully, ‘Do I need anything?’ she repeated, ‘I can think of something but it’s off limits.’

Peter withdrew his hand, surprised at how much those words hurt. She was entitled to lash out at him, he thought, at times he hadn’t known if he was coming or going, he had given her the mixed signals she had mentioned last night and it wasn’t right. But oh how those words hurt. Jenna caught his expression and immediately looked tearful.

‘Sorry,’ she said roughly, ‘Sorry I don’t mean that… to snap… I’m just so…’ she trailed off as though there wasn’t a word for what she felt. She looked wrecked and Peter had to fight the urge to crawl over to her and fold her into his arms, never move again. It took him all his strength to stand and finish dressing, just as he suspected it took all her strength not to cry.

He needed to go back to his own room, ruffle the sheets, move things about a bit to make it looked lived in, but the symbolism wasn’t lost on him. He was leaving. Peter slipped his jacket on and glanced again at Jenna, motionless, not trusting herself to speak or alter her posture. She sat like a statue of herself, composed and beautiful, her profile against the early morning sun from the window. He was leaving her, leaving this? And again he felt that conflict, the one he always felt when he was with her, when he couldn’t think of anything but her face, her voice, her touch.

He drew a breath, reminded himself this was the only choice.

‘I’ll meet you downstairs for the signing,’ he said and she nodded without a word. Peter opened his mouth but stayed frozen, what could he say faced with this? ‘Ok,’ he whispered more to himself than to her. He opened the door and slipped out quietly.

Something made him linger outside for a moment, lean against the doorframe and catch his breath; try to steady his legs and swallow away the sick feeling, but he wished he had just moved on. Behind the door he could hear her sobbing, breaking apart now he had left, and he wondered how the pair of them would ever survive.

He put on a mask and managed the day. It was nothing short of a miracle. The signing wasn’t too bad, sitting at a table out of direct eye line from Jenna, just signing things and saying hello. It was mindless and rhythmic and the time passed quickly, the signing motion lulling him and emptying his head of thought.

The photoshoot too, just him and a fan, he adopted a smile or a pose at their request. A performing monkey just for an hour, ignore the pain just do as you’re told. They want him pointing a screwdriver, fine. They want the classic Doctor Who stance, sure. Just don’t mention anything about his companion, currently in the room next door doing her own shoot.

After lunch was harder. A photoshoot with both of them was due to start at two. When he was escorted to the room she was already there, sitting half on one of the tables, arms folded and head down. She had put on her make up but left her hair down so that it acted as a curtain, hiding her features if she wanted it to.

She looked up and saw him and he hesitated a beat before he approached. It would look odd if they ignored one another and besides it felt childish. They hadn’t argued or fallen out, it was quite the opposite, they loved each other too much, life just didn’t have those plans for them. He sat next to her on the table.

Jenna had apparently been thinking the same sorts of thoughts.

‘It’s not that I’m not speaking to you,’ she said flatly, ‘I just can’t trust myself not to cry or say something I will regret so I’d really appreciate it if we can just do this shoot, as a couple of professionals, and just get it done.’ She waited for his answer, staring straight ahead.

‘Of course,’ he said, ‘I don’t want to make this worse.’

‘Thank you.’

She didn’t look at him once, not once unless directed to by the fan requesting the pose. Even then he could tell she wasn’t looking directly in his eyes, but just above or below, she daren’t make that connection. She was cool and somewhat more reserved than usual but she got the job ‘done,’ as she wanted and then left the room directly for the question and answer. It raised a few eyebrows that she walked off so quickly and alone, she was usually so inseparable from Peter, and he heard a mumbling along the lines of ‘was she ok?’ She’s fine, he told the organisers, just tiring at the end of the tour, jet lagged, keen to get on with it and get home.

On stage they had to talk together answering questions from the crowd, but they had done this so often now they had answers at their fingertips, rehearsed and perfected. They knew when to laugh at each other’s jokes or butt in with a comment and it went surprisingly smoothly until a question for Jenna popped up in the front row.

‘What will you miss most about working on the show?’ the kid asked.

‘Peter’s face,’ she said and he looked at her quickly, ‘I know that sounds a bit weird, specifying his face but it’s true,’ she smiled at the fans and refused to catch his eye. ‘His face is so expressive, so open, I look to him to know I’m doing OK. Peter’s always been there absolutely while I’ve been on the show and I’ve learned so much from him as an actor and as a friend. When I’m finding something tough I just look across at him and I can see that support written all over his face. He can make me feel better at fifty paces because of that, boost my confidence, give me strength, make me laugh. So yeah… I’ll miss that most… his face, him, my friend, he’s very special.’

The audience clapped a little and Peter saw Jenna look down at the microphone she held now in her lap. A single tear was tracking down one cheek but the audience were too far away to see. He couldn’t help it, he reached over and squeezed her arm but she didn’t or couldn’t respond. Peter drew back again and the next question was asked before he could do any more. The convention rolled on, the clock ticked.

Then it ended. The pair escaped the organisers at last and went to their rooms to pack their things. They waited in the lobby for their cab and sat in silence on the way to the airport. Peter glanced at Jenna regularly but she appeared a million miles away, her mask fixed and her face pale. He knew if he pushed she’d break and he wanted to spare her embarrassment, but at the same time he was beginning to miss her already, and she was still there. He longed to hear her voice, to hear her say something, anything, even if she hated him. He sighed, closing his eyes and leaning back. So tired. A moment later he felt her hand close over his but when he looked across she was gazing out the window.

She held on until the airport and then her cool hand slowly withdrew. They checked in and boarded, were seated side by side. He wondered if she would sleep, or close her eyes to block out reality but she just looked straight ahead. After take-off he took out his sketch book to focus his roaming unhappy mind and hopefully find some peace.

‘What will happen when we get back?’ she asked suddenly, the first words really she’d spoken all day.

‘I… What do you want?’ he asked dumbstruck.

She smiled painfully, ‘You, always, but that isn’t happening so I’ll settle for friends. We can still be friends can’t we?’ she turned to look at him all pallor and dark circles now her makeup was off. Christ he never meant the weekend to cause so much distress. He should have left it; she would have moved on eventually. Maybe. Maybe he would have too. Why was he so selfish? Why did he do this?

‘Of course,’ he said, ‘I’d be devastated if we lost our friendship.’

‘And we can still meet up, right?’

He hesitated, ‘It might not be advisable at first,’ he said, ‘What with things being so… things are still tender. Maybe we should take some time, get ourselves back on track.’

He saw the disappointment in her eyes but her face didn’t react. God, she was good. ‘Right,’ she said, ‘OK, yeah I see that, time to heal, time to make things up with our partners,’ she nodded and looked back at the seat in front of her, ‘Sensible. You’ll be busy anyway with the new series, hopefully I’ll be busy with the next part of Victoria. You’d laugh, they’re going to have to start aging me as she approaches forty. Remember that aging make up for the Christmas episode? That was something else. I’m betting they aren’t as talented as our guys but then I don’t need to look ninety…’

‘Jenna,’ he took her hand, interrupted her flow, ‘It’s not that I don’t want to see you. It’s that if I see you too quickly, when I still feel like this, well… I need to be able to put trust in myself, in both of us, I need us to adapt back to friendship.’

‘You need your heart to stop hurting,’ Jenna said suddenly. ‘If you’re anything like me.’

He looked at her until she turned to face him again. ‘Yes,’ he said.

‘And how long will that take, do you think?’ she asked with a twitch of a sad smile, ‘because I think I’ll be waiting a while.’

When they touched down and sorted their affairs in the airport there just didn’t seem to be enough time. The process seemed to go faster than it ever had before and soon they were in the back of a shared cab, unable to face going separately and making the excuse that they only lived streets from one another. It was dark and it hid Jenna’s face from him unless the streetlamps shone through the window just so and then he saw her motionless and frozen, almost fearful. Even the cab driver said little, sensing as all good drivers do, the tension in the back.

Peter’s stomach churned and he felt a cold sweat break across his forehead. He swiped it and shifted in the seat trying to will the nausea away, breathe through his mouth. He hadn’t felt travel sick since he was a kid. Perhaps it was fatigue, little food and _Red Bull_. Or perhaps it was something else. He opened the window to the warm night air and Jenna looked across.

‘You OK?’ she asked automatically.

‘Just feel a bit off,’ he said not knowing how to explain it. I feel sick to my stomach Jenna because this thing between us is over and I don’t want it to be?

‘Nearly there,’ she said and fell silent.

Sure enough minutes later they pulled up at her house and the cab driver opened the door on Jenna’s side. She hopped out, joined by Peter whose need for fresh air was pressing. He lifted her bag out for her and set it on the low wall by her stairs.

They stood looking at one another.

‘Thanks for the weekend,’ she said, ‘For all the good bits.’

‘I’m sorry, Jenna…’

Jenna quickly shook her head, ‘I expected it really, I just didn’t realise how painful it would actually be, how much I feel for you, but… enough of that. I respect your decision. I’m your friend, I care about you, you can’t risk your marriage.’ She sounded so formal, so rehearsed and he knew that she had decided she had to perform, pretend, because her true emotions would probably make them both crumble. But he wanted to see the girl behind the mask one last time.

‘Jenna, please, come here,’ he said opening his arms. She hesitated for a moment before stepping towards him, letting herself be folded up against his body. ‘I’m sorry,’ he breathed.

‘I know… me too.’

They stood for a minute in the quiet of the evening before Peter gradually, reluctantly pulled away. Jenna gave him a brave smile and lifted her bag. ‘I’ll see you,’ she said as though nothing had changed.

‘You will,’ he confirmed, knowing it was probably a lie, at least for the immediate future. She stood on tiptoes and kissed him one last time on the lips. Cradled his face for a moment and then turned away, trotting up the steps to her house. He watched her go inside, turn on the light and swing the door shut.

He had to go home. The taxi driver was waiting and so was Elaine. He wished he could just stay where he was, in the dark, close to Jenna, alone with his thoughts, but he had no choice. Except maybe he could delay it? Give himself more time. He hadn’t the ability to walk through his front door yet; he felt weak.

Peter took his bag from the cab and paid the fare. He would walk, try to settle his stomach, gain some strength back in his legs. He would walk and try to stop shaking.

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter faces Elaine and some consequences. Two for one chapter tonight - twice as long as usual.

Dark. Dark when he had said goodbye to Jenna and dark now that he was outside his own home. Dark but not late enough for Elaine to be asleep, she was probably still up working. Peter slowly made his way to the steps, climbed them reluctantly and stood outside his door. His heart was still racing and the sick feeling hadn’t gone despite the walk. He was shaking less, but he could almost guarantee that it would come back, the moment he laid eyes on her.

Because he couldn’t lie to Elaine, he never could, over anything big or small. That was the design of their relationship, a reason it had been so successful. If he stole the last cupcake he would immediately admit it the second she asked if it had been him, sometimes even if she didn’t ask. His need to confess was a deep seated learned behaviour, so he knew what was coming.

The first night he had spent kissing Jenna at the end of the shoot had to lead to him almost immediately telling Elaine. The same when things had gone a little further, he’d poured out his guilt the moment he came through the door. An entire weekend of betrayal behind him meant there wasn’t a chance he could hide it. Elaine always knew, she sensed it might happen before he even left, the ‘last hurrah,’ she called it and watched him knowingly as he departed their home even as he vowed it wouldn’t happen.

He hesitated with his hand on the door and his keys in the lock, half leaning against the wood. He was scared and it took him right back to his childhood, creeping back home after pinching sweets at a corner shop. He didn’t even need to pinch sweets, his parents owned an ice cream parlour filled with them. It was ridiculous and unnecessary, all he had to do was ask. But it was his weakness. Just like he didn’t need to spend a weekend making love to Jenna when he had a woman he loved here at home. He was a pleasure seeker and he loved beautiful things. A hedonist. But it was no excuse.

Greedy was a better word for him, he thought. Cake and eating it, also sprang to mind.

The light in the living room went off, signalling she must be about to go to bed. He had to make a decision. Go in now and get it done with or wait, avoid the conversation until morning and have some more thinking time. He knew he should be a man about it and face the music. His guts told him to go with the urge to confess as always. But his mind informed him that this wasn’t a case of missing cupcakes easily smoothed over before bed. This would be a full on, relationship changing row and it would leave them both psychologically bruised and exhausted. He couldn’t face that on top of jet lag and he didn’t suppose Elaine would appreciate staying up until three in the morning trying to work out if their marriage was over.

He sat on the step and put his head in his hands. It really did feel that serious. Elaine had implied this weekend would happen, just as she implied that it could be set to one side. But something in him told him that as hard as he might try he wouldn’t be able to properly let go of Jenna and Elaine would see it in a flash. He didn’t know what would happen from there. Would she tolerate his mooning over his co-star if he did it from a distance, if he kept it to a subtle minimum and tried to get over it; or would she begin to feel that she as his wife wasn’t enough? Would this thing eat away at their marriage after all? He already felt the answer.

He sat for an hour in the warm summer’s air his mind on nothing in particular and exhaustion heavy in every limb. His arms and legs tingled with it and his vision hazed. He watched headlights quietly pass by and streetlamps flicker, turning darkness on and off outside his house. He felt his breathing slow and caught himself nodding, leaning against the door frame, hidden in its shadow. Peter realised he had to move, that he couldn’t sit there until dawn and tiredly pulled himself up, relocating the keys and slipping into the hallway.

The lights were all off by now, which struck him as odd. Elaine knew his flight was due and normally would either wait up or leave the hall lights on. Quietly he made his way into the living room and put down his bags, cast his eyes around searching for something he was sure was different or a portent of doom, but everything looked the same. The shakes were coming back, encouraged by his fatigue and motionless hour on the stone step. Peter thought about going upstairs and then hesitated. He didn’t want to wake Elaine and the spare rooms probably weren’t made up anyway. He briefly thought about quickly doing it himself then thought he was too tired. Another excuse he knew; he just didn’t want to risk going up there at all. He was frightened.

He took off his shoes and jacket and using an old chenille throw on the back of the couch lay down. He took his phone out of his pocket and checked the time, after one in the morning, and then he saw the text, from Jenna’s phone.

_This time don’t delete me. I need you in my life._

The shaky feeling became worse as he read it. The fatigue turned to an odd kind of loneliness. This time yesterday he was curled up in bed with Jenna in a fantasy life, ignoring his responsibilities, indulging himself by finally allowing himself just to worship her. Now he lay on his couch in his dark living room, too nervous to face his wife, because he loved her too and always had, he just couldn’t work out his own feelings any more.

That inability to think it through, that purely emotional reaction to both women was torturing him. He had to make decisions but his usual methods of doing so were precluded by his involuntary but powerful and ultimately controlling feelings. Why couldn’t emotions just be shut on and off? Why was this happening now thirty years into the happiest relationship anyone could ask for?

Don’t delete me. He knew this time he couldn’t. He had stopped all contact before and it didn’t make a grain of difference to the long hours spend thinking about her, sketching her face, playing her damned song on the guitar. He was like a lovesick teenager again. Maybe that was the attraction after reaching his twenty fifth anniversary, which he realised with horror was the following week. Maybe that crazy, adrenaline filled excitement of a new or secret tryst was something he was lacking. Maybe…

He turned quickly on the couch and shut his eyes tight. He had to stop thinking, he had to. The room was practically spinning from a combination of headache, jet lag and tiredness. He had to sleep, he had to sleep because tomorrow…

Peter woke to sunshine streaming through the living room window, and to a sore back and hips from lying on the couch. He took almost a minute to lever himself up with various pitches of groaning and then sat slumped forward trying to gather the strength to go into the kitchen. A clatter of crockery in front of him announced that Elaine had got there before him and made a tray of beverage, toast and the morning’s post. He looked up to find her in a light sage green robe made of silk and embroidered with pink birds in an elegant Chinese style. She smiled at him.

‘Made coffee when I found you on the couch, thought you might need it.

‘I do, thank you,’ he said and watched her pour, watched her hands, her wedding and engagement rings in their usual place. They hadn’t moved in twenty-five years, just as his wedding ring had barely left his hand but for various roles. He’d insisted on props and wardrobe letting him wear it now, carefully disguised as the Doctor’s signet ring. He looked a moment longer before accepting the coffee, his heart suddenly in his mouth with fear.

Elaine frowned, ‘You look awful,’ she said, ‘Rough flight or was it the whole weekend? I was looking through the fan pages, apparently it was pretty disorganised?’ she sat opposite him, smiled at him pleasantly again.

‘Yes, yes it was a bit,’ he took a gulp of the coffee and tried to remember anything about the actual conventions.

‘I thought as much when you didn’t call, I mean you always call, you always answer your phone to me, so it had to be something pretty big, to keep you that occupied,’ she sat back in her chair, legs crossed, coffee between her hands, ‘for you not to get in contact.’ Elaine’s tone lowered and the words came slower with just a hint of accusation. Peter found himself looking at the floor, swallowing painfully. He had to get this done. He had to be honest. Elaine had already guessed.

‘I promised you I would tell you, if anything happened…. Between Jenna and I,’ he started and glanced up at her. Elaine had once been an actor, like him, like Jenna, and her face was a mask of perfect impassivity now, but he thought he saw something behind her eyes, a flinch, a moment of panic and he looked away again. Oh this was going to be hard.

‘Go on,’ she said levelly. ‘We agreed that it could happen, just once, and that you tell me, so I’m listening.’

He put down the coffee, his hands shaking and damp.

‘I didn’t mean it to happen,’ he said imagining Elaine scoffing at him silently, ‘I thought we were past it, that enough time had gone by. I really believed that we could just do the conventions. I wasn’t lying to you when I left for the airport. I was looking forward to seeing her but, I didn’t plan this.’

Elaine listened on. So far she seemed accepting enough, the same woman who had suggested the one off affair in the first place. Except now faced with the actuality of it and that seemed a strain; so much harder to accept.

He carried on, ‘And I thought we’d have a chaperone in the form of Michelle, so I really didn’t think anything could happen, but she had a pretty rough weekend… she wasn’t well so it was just the pair of us and… there was this bathroom…’ he sighed aware of how pathetic he was sounding. Pathetic and confused.

‘Bathroom?’ Elaine prompted, her speech taut. She seemed to be trying to appear relaxed, amused even, but her voice sounded wrong. Peter plunged on.

‘They put us in this suite thing with a shared bathroom and we…. We ended up.’ Peter heard his wife let out a terse breath, she shifted in her chair, looked straight at him. She was struggling now with her calm persona, she was rattled but trying to hold it together and it made him all the more nervous.

‘You had a shared bathroom and no chaperone, and what?’ she asked with a short laugh, ‘You might as well tell me the details.’

‘We spent the weekend together,’ he admitted, ‘Just like you thought we would. I’m so sorry, I really didn’t plan it, we just, it happened and…’

‘You had sex?’ she asked bluntly.

‘Yes.’

‘When?’

‘The first night,’ he confessed.

‘Just the first night?’

‘No,’ he admitted.

Elaine examined her wedding ring, ‘Every night. Through the whole weekend?’ she clarified.

‘Yes, well almost the whole weekend,’ he said, his heart sinking with guilt. Peter cautiously looked back at her and she looked away, towards the door as though considering escaping. The sunlight from the window was spilling over her face and her eyes looked bluer than normal, bluer and wetter, but without his glasses he couldn’t quite tell if she was crying by looking at her alone. Her silence though gave much more away, she couldn’t trust her voice, or her lips, so she sat like a statue refusing to look at him until she was under control.

‘Elaine?’ he asked after a minute.

‘I thought it might happen, the last hurrah thing,’ she said casually, ‘It’s fine, really it’s fine! I said it was fine before you even left. It was my idea after all.’

Another silence while she tried to convince herself and him that all was well.

‘I’ve always thought it would happen,’ she said, her voice starting to break, ‘I mean I gave you permission, I just… well it feels… I didn’t know it would feel quite like this.’

‘Like what?’

‘Like you’ve just slapped me,’ she said and looked at him. He could see the tears now. ‘ It feels physical almost, like a punch in the chest. I thought I could be all right with it. Let you work through whatever it is you two have, because I can’t deny there is something and its strong and binding. I thought I could be the better person, let you do your thing with permission and then it would be over with. God I’m really stupid sometimes.’

‘It _is_ over with, Elaine.’

‘Is it?’ she asked hopeful and fearful.

Peter thought of the way he had felt the night before, of his odd loneliness and the pain he felt when he thought of Jenna. He knew he would probably be better deleting her texts and number again but he hadn’t. He knew deep down he couldn’t, that he was as desperate as ever to have a link to her, to be able to call her and just hear her voice, to meet her for coffee, to hold her again. His pause told Elaine everything she needed to know.

‘Apparently not,’ she said. Her voice was sad rather than angry. Sad and disappointed, with him, with herself. She had made a terrible mistake and she would be blaming herself as much as him.

Peter roused, ‘No, wait, it is over. I told her it was. I told her we could only be friends and we probably shouldn’t even meet up until we can trust ourselves…’

‘You can say something is over as much as you like, it doesn’t make it so. And as for trusting yourselves,’ Elaine said, ‘If it was over it shouldn’t even be an issue!’

‘I know, I know…’ he raised both hands in a calming gesture.

‘ _Why_ don’t you just walk away completely?’ she asked, brows knit, ‘You’ve had your final fling, why don’t you just call it a day? It’s done, the show, everything.’

He opened his mouth and tried to answer but nothing appropriate came to mind. He knew why, he knew only too well but he couldn’t say that to his wife, she’d be so hurt, so angry so…

‘Why?’ she pushed.

His tendency not to lie would be his downfall. ‘Because I need her, I feel like I need her,’ he said quietly hating every word, ‘because I can’t imagine her not being around. She’s my friend, my best friend…’

Something in Elaine’s face changed suddenly, no longer attempting to understand, no longer calm and rational.

‘I thought that was me?’ she said quietly.

Peter stared at her, speechless for a moment and then ran his hands through his hair. ‘You… we… you are, you always have been but I can have more than one friend, for God’s sake Elaine it’s not a competition.’

‘Not a competition?’ she erupted in a rare show of vulnerability tinged in sarcasm, ‘Not a competition? You disappear off for a weekend with your beautiful, witty, fun, thirty-year-old co-star and come back telling me she’s your closest buddy and you can’t possibly lose her because you need her so much in your life, and it’s not a competition? It sounds like one. I mean I’m twice her age and probably pretty boring compared to her. Certainly she’s prettier, how can I compare with Jenna? It’s a clear win for her!’

‘Elaine! No! I love you, you’re beautiful. You’re putting words in my mouth.’

‘It’s written all over your face!’ Elaine cried, standing up, ‘You were supposed to go and get it out of your system. Make a few memories, I said. Not get into something heavy, not come back and sit there with a face like someone has died and tell me you spent the entire weekend in bed and you can’t bear to end it because you _need_ her.’

‘Elaine!’

She clapped her hands over her face and breathed in deeply, trying to calm herself down. ‘Shut up!’ she said, ‘Shut up, I can’t believe this. I can believe it’s happened like this!’

‘Elaine you were the one that encouraged me to go, to take the opportunity…’

She was shaking her head back and forth under her hands, ‘Yes well I’m an idiot aren’t I, I thought I could handle it, I thought our marriage was so strong, one weekend wouldn’t matter. That you and I loved each other so much that it would mean nothing in comparison.’

‘Elaine, I do love you,’ Peter said, ‘I’ve always loved you, that’s never going to change.’

She dropped her hands, ‘Isn’t it?’

‘No!’

‘You’ve always loved me?’

‘Yes!’

‘Even while you were with Jenna? Even while you were doing it in the hotel room, or I don’t know the bloody shared bathroom? Loved me then did you?’

He felt his face and neck flush with shame.

‘Thinking about me then were you?’ she accused.

‘Elaine this isn’t fair…’

‘Isn’t fair?!’ she cried, ‘I’ll tell you what isn’t fair, finding out your husband has not only shagged his co-star but he seems to be in love with her too. That bit wasn’t in the deal.’

‘I…’ he stuttered because she was right, it was supposed to be a bit of approved fun and he’d spent most of his time debating his painful feelings. Peter slumped back down on the sofa and covered his face. He could hear Elaine pacing on the other side of the room, her breathing ragged.

‘I don’t know what to say,’ he eventually ventured. ‘I went there with good intentions, I ended up sleeping with her, and yes things did get intense, I care a great deal about her.’

‘You love her,’ Elaine corrected.

‘Yes, OK, I love her! ’ he admitted before he could stop himself, ‘I didn’t go there intending to fall in love or make a mess of our marriage and when I realised what I was doing I backed off.’ He looked up at her and she finally met his eye. ‘I told her I couldn’t carry it on, that I was married, that you deserved better than that, that she deserved better than that, for that matter. I called it off.’

‘When?’ she asked, calmer.

‘Why does that matter?’

‘When?’ Elaine said, ‘It matters to me.’

‘The morning, yesterday,’ he said, ‘We went through the whole of the last day, the flight, knowing it was done with.’

Elaine moved to sit by him. ‘Can’t have been nice.’

‘It was er… awkward. Painful,’ he confessed. ‘But needed. She understood, you’re my wife.’

‘She accepted it?’

‘Yes, completely. She doesn’t want to destroy a marriage.’

Elaine pressed her lips together and smoothed her robe over her knees. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said from nowhere. ‘I encouraged you towards this, both of you, thinking, I don’t know I was some liberal bohemian sexual reformist, and it went too far. It didn’t work. Now I’m hurting, and you’re hurting and she probably is too and I don’t think any of us are like that, we’re not that kind of person? We don’t want to hurt one another. It’s just a bloody mess.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ve always known I find Jenna attractive, I always remained faithful to you. I never should have crossed that line even if it was suggested.’

Elaine nodded. ‘In future I won’t suggest these things. I’m not saying everything’s fine, Peter, but I hate arguing,’ she said after a moment.

‘Can we not then? I’ve had enough for this morning anyway,’ he asked and she smiled sadly, leaned sideways until her head was on his shoulder and stayed there while he wrapped his arm around her.

‘I love you,’ he said, ‘That will never change. Though I am a completely selfish idiot at times.’

‘Drink your coffee. I love you too. Enough to forgive you. Probably.’

He kissed her head and watched her lean forward to get her mug and the morning post. He sensed they still had more to chew over but the worst of it was over for now and she just wanted to do something normal for a bit. Have breakfast, pay bills. He just wanted keep his promise, repair his precious marriage, act his bloody age. He took a gulp of tepid coffee.

‘Peter?’ her voice sounded alarmed and hurt.

‘Hmm? What?’

She turned to him with a brown envelope in one hand and photographic paper in the other.

‘What are these? If you and she had the conversation about things being finished yesterday morning then what the hell are these?’

She threw them down on the couch between them and he stared at the photographs, obviously taken from a phone and enlarged, stuffed in a hand delivered envelope and dropped through the door. There was a time and date on them all from last night. Him and Jenna. Embracing. Kissing.

‘We were… we were saying goodbye,’ he stuttered, ‘Outside her house last night, we shared a taxi and then I walked here.’

Elaine was not believing a single word.

‘You are kissing her in this one, and oh look in this one she’s quite comfortably in your arms, and here, this one’s really lovely she’s stroking your cheek. You definitely look like a couple who have split up that day.’

‘It’s just a goodbye peck on the lips, the photos make it looks worse,’ he explained completely dumbfounded by the appearance of this apparent evidence.

‘What time did you get home last night?’

‘Midnight,’ he guessed.

‘No you didn’t, I was up at midnight!’

‘I sat on the steps a while.’

‘What?’

‘I couldn’t face you so I sat outside for an hour until after you went to bed.’

‘Like hell you did!’ Elaine erupted again, ‘God knows what time you got back. It could have been an hour ago. You spent the night with her, with Jenna. The taxi dropped you off, took some pictures for posterity and you spent the night with Jenna.’

‘No!’ Peter stood and denied it all.

‘Well, congratulations,’ Elaine was saying, ‘Not only have you managed a whopping lie for the first time in your life, not only are you clearly having a full blown affair and not a one off, but now there’s someone out there with pictures of you two snogging. That’s going to go down well with the BBC isn’t it? If these come out?’

Peter looked down at the photos in his hands. If they were published, if people got wind, he’d probably lose the role. Doctor Who didn’t have affairs, didn’t cheat, didn’t sleep with his companions at conventions full of fans. Jesus, this was about as serious as it got. His wife hated him and he might lose his dream job.

‘Shit,’ he muttered. ‘This is awful.’

‘Yes, and it’s about to get worse,’ Elaine said, her face set, ‘You need to sort those out,’ she said pointing to the pictures, ‘But you’re not doing it from here. I don’t want you near me, I can’t bear to look at you and look at these. You swore it was over and it isn’t its it? I’m not a complete fool. Get out. This is not your home anymore; I’m sure Jenna will make space for you. Take your bags and go.’

‘Elaine!’

She stood against the wall, sourcing strength from it, holding herself as upright and tall as she could. She was not one to be lied to or messed with and he had completely betrayed her. She had just about decided the weekend was something she could live with, that she took a part of the responsibility rightly or wrongly, when more evidence of his betrayal had apparently arrived. Why should she believe him now? Why should she think it was just a peck when he had clearly stated he loved Jenna? The trust was blown, totally and utterly and he couldn’t repair it.

Peter looked between his wife and his bags, stunned, still slightly jet lagged and at a loss as to what to do next.

‘Elaine can’t we talk…’

‘Get out,’ she said coldly, though her face betrayed her pain, she looked away from him again. ‘We talked, you lied, I’ve had enough for this morning, maybe enough full stop. I don’t even know if I want to talk to you at all but I suppose we will have to. Get out. We’ll talk at some point but not now. Go. I can’t look at you Peter!’

He lifted his bags and left the room, looking around the hall in confusion. What on earth had just happened? He thought things had come right again or at least could be worked on, and now these photos had appeared. He couldn’t think straight he was so tired and his heart was beating at twice its usual pace. The front door swung shut behind him and he stood in the morning sun outside what he had thought was his home.

What now?

On cue his phone began to buzz in his pocket and when he pulled it out he saw Jenna’s name.

‘Hello?’

‘Hi, just checking you got back ok, got some sleep? Sorry I know its early I just didn’t sleep well myself…’

‘Um… Jenna,’ he said cautiously, glancing in the window of his living room to where Elaine was standing just where he had left her, pale and shocked.

‘Yeah?’ Jenna asked brightly.

Peter looked across the road to the trees and the houses on the other side, to the sunshine beating down on the pavements and at a world which had been completely shaken by a realisation he had just made, ‘Jenna,’ he said, ‘I think my marriage might be over.’


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now they are back in London the consequences are obvious and having massive impact on Peter's life in particular. Can Jenna find it in herself to do the right thing?

Jenna didn’t sleep; not well anyway, despite jet lag and the emotions which had drained her in the last few days. She drifted in and out of dreams, woke confused and disorientated, looked for Peter beside her. Eventually she lay watching the light filter in through the curtains and gave up on sleep completely. The sun rose early and therefore so did she, deciding she would be productive instead of lying in bed brooding all morning. No, she should get up, face the world and do some cleaning.

Her thoughts however wouldn’t shift from Peter, from their time together and from their goodbye. He had finished it and she understood his reasons but by God it had hurt and today she felt strangely numb and directionless. Now and then she would stop dead in her tracks when the feeling hit her, unable to function for a moment.

She spent two hours mopping and hoovering and replaying conversations in her head, wondering if she should call him. Wondering if he would _let_ her call him, if he would answer, if he really meant it when he said he would be in touch and see her soon. She half suspected it was a white lie to ease their goodbye and that plagued her. Peter didn’t do lying, he wasn’t good at it and it didn’t suit him. She felt not for the first time like she was somehow corrupting him. Jenna flipped through her phone, through their messages until the battery started to run low, trying to work out what they were to one another now.

She felt antsy. She just couldn’t settle. He’d said they were still friends, well let’s see then. A quick call, just to see how he was. That wasn’t unusual was it? A quick call to say hey how’s your jet lag, mine’s terrible. Something like that. Something transparently obvious that it was an excuse. Regardless, Jenna hit speed dial hoping it wasn’t too early to phone, and held her breath when he answered. She started rambling; reasons she’d called, to see if he’d slept and so on, trying to sound casual and normal and unfazed but he interrupted her.

‘Um… Jenna?’

‘Yeah?’ she deliberately used a bright cheerful tone.

‘Jenna I think my marriage might be over.’

Out of the blue, just from nowhere. His voice was level and oddly distant, he sounded shocked. Jenna paused and so did he. Then ‘What?’ she half laughed, ‘Don’t be dramatic, what are you on about?’

Another pause. The sound of early morning traffic and a few birds in the background.

‘I’m standing outside my house with my case having just been thrown out,’ he elaborated. ‘I… Elaine, she’d always said she wanted to know if you and I, well you know, got together. She’d guessed that much so I told her we had a pretty intense weekend but we put a stop to it. She believed me I think at first but then there were these photographs…’

‘Wait, photographs?’ Jenna frowned.

‘Of us, last night, saying goodbye… and she just lost it. She thinks its evidence I stayed with you last night, that we’re not finished. She thinks were having an affair.’ There was another gap on the line, someone sounded a horn on Peter’s street. ‘You know what, to be honest I have no idea what’s going on,’ he said, ‘It’s all happened kind of suddenly. I think I was a bit naïve, I think I thought I could smooth it over, maybe? That because she suggested it, it would ultimately be OK, but she seems to have changed her mind,’ he sounded worn out and shocked.

Jenna stared around her, eyes wide. ‘I can’t believe it,’ she said, ‘Elaine would never, ever give up on you. She loves you so much. This doesn’t make sense. She’ll calm down, I’m sure of it… you just need to talk to her, she needs to hear the truth.’

‘She’s locked me out,’ he said, ‘I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want to talk, and I made the mistake of the truth earlier, if I’d lied I might be in there having breakfast.’

‘You can’t lie,’ Jenna said.

‘Maybe I should learn,’ he theorised, and again she got that feeling of disquiet.

‘What will you do?’ she asked.

‘Well I can’t sit on the doorstep all day, Jesus Christ, I can’t think. I don’t know,’ his voice was frustrated, ‘I get bits of it but… she was fine before I flew out, she was hinting we should do this so we did, and now she says she can’t handle it because…’ there was a groan, ‘Sorry Jenna, I’m sorry. I told her I love you…’

‘That was clever,’ Jenna rolled her eyes, it was no wonder things were going wrong, ‘Really helpful, Peter. You’re trying to patch things up and you tell her you love me? Do me a favour. Walk down to the end of your street,’ she said lifting her car keys and grabbing a light coat.

‘Why?’

‘So she doesn’t see me pick you up. You need somewhere to go, and we need to talk. So you’re coming to mine.’

‘Jenna that sort of defeats the whole object of us calling a halt to this.’

‘You said friends, we’re friends. A friend would help a friend who has been chucked out by his wife,’ Jenna reached her car and pressed the key.

‘Most friends aren’t the reason a friend has been chucked out in the first place.’

‘You got any better ideas?’ she asked inserting the key into the ignition and wrestling with the seat belt and phone. She placed it on speaker and onto a ledge above the radio. ‘You don’t need this getting out. You and I need to sit down and talk and try and clean up this mess we’ve both made.’

Silence.

‘Peter? You OK?’

‘I’m ok,’ he said, ‘You just sound so… in control. So certain, confident. How do you know you can fix this? Do you want to fix this? I mean, you’re not immune to what this means. If Elaine wants to finish with me then you…’

‘Stop right there,’ Jenna turned left, ‘You made a decision. To be with your wife. No matter what I feel, perhaps _because_ of what I feel, I respect that and if being with her is what you need, I’ll help you with this.’ She listened to her voice and almost believed herself.

‘But yesterday,’ he said, ‘When I told you I had to go back to Elaine, I’ve never seen anyone so upset. How do you go from that to helping me repair my marriage?’

Jenna pulled up at the end of Peter’s road and saw him approach, bags in one hand and phone in the other. She waited, watching him get nearer.

‘It’s what you want, what you think is best and will make you happy,’ she said. ‘Trust me when I say I love you and that’s all I want for you too, regardless of what I might like to happen.’ She ended the call and the passenger door swung open. Peter ducked his head in.

‘You’re sure?’ he asked, pocketing his phone.

‘Get in,’ she smiled bravely, ‘Let’s see if we can sort your life out a bit.’

He flung his bags in the back and got in, travelled the couple of minutes to her house and before long found himself in her kitchen while she made tea. Jenna watched him out the corner of her eye as she boiled water and found biscuits. He sat very still, but for the rotation back and forth of his wedding ring. His eyes were focused on the opposite side of the kitchen table and his thoughts even further away. He looked pale, paler than usual at least and somehow empty.

Jenna sat at right angles to him and pushed a mug in his direction.

‘Women keep making me hot beverages today,’ he remarked, I drink them and get chucked out.’

‘I’m not chucking you out,’ Jenna reassured.

‘Give it time,’ he sighed.

‘She loves you,’ Jenna started, ‘You’ve been together thirty years, you have a child, you’ve been through much, much worse than this. She will come around.’

‘You didn’t hear her, God, she’s so hurt. I mean she made me reel a bit. Elaine’s.. she’s…’

‘Strong?’

‘Yes, very, the strongest person I know,’ he confirmed, ‘That’s why when she suggested we do the one off thing I thought, well she must be OK with it, to suggest it at all. She’s plenty confident, she knows she’s my soul mate and I’m not going to run off with a younger model.’

Jenna listened, nodding appropriately and feeling a little sting with each word. He made it sound like he and Elaine had negotiated Jenna’s involvement with Peter so that both parties were content. No real thought for Jenna. They probably had done exactly that. ‘Have a dirty weekend darling, its fine, I know you’ll come back to me.’ She shook her head. She was being unfair. Jenna had known the score from the start and both Peter and Elaine at different times had discussed it with her on some level. Now was not the time to start getting bitter. She had always known the basics; Peter had always belonged to Elaine.

Peter caught the movement of her head, ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, wincing, ‘It makes you sound like… I don’t know, an object. Like Elaine OK’d an experiment or something.’

‘Thanks, I wasn’t actually thinking that, interesting idea though,’ Jenna said snappily, disguising the fact that it was exactly what she had been thinking.

Peter groaned and the began chewing his thumb. Jenna smacked his hand away, raising a smile in both of them.

‘So she surprised you by being hurt?’ Jenna asked.

‘She surprised herself. She confessed she hadn’t expected it to bother her so much, but she spent all weekend thinking of it. She prides herself on intellectualising everything. Maybe she couldn't this time? Maybe she's lost some of her confidence? Maybe she’s more vulnerable that I thought?’

‘Maybe, it gets harder for women as they get older. Apparently,’ she added when she saw him raise his eyebrows at her, ‘She could genuinely have worried you didn’t find her attractive or wanted to replace her no matter how crazy that was.’

‘That’s utterly ridiculous!’

‘Is it?’ Jenna asked, ‘People think these things, no matter how sensible and bright they are, people have doubts and weaknesses.’

Peter scratched at the table with one nail. ‘I suppose they do. I mean I do… so she could. And I was out of contact. I didn’t call her and I usually do. She must have been wondering what the hell was happening. That’s awful of me, I take advantage of her offer and then I fall out of contact leaving her to her doubts. I think maybe that just built and built and then I came back, put my foot in it and boom!’

Jenna tried to tune in to him but her mind was protesting at being referred to as ‘Elaine’s offer.’ She knew he wasn’t doing it deliberately, that he had to term it something, but she was feeling more and more secondary to his wife.

But then again, she was, wasn’t she? That's what she had to accept.

‘How did you put your foot in it? The I love her thing?’ she asked.

‘No. She could just see it on my face and then she started getting details out of me pretty quick. Things like it wasn’t just once it was all weekend. The love bit, that was near the end, but she knew, she could see it. What I feel for you, it’s overwhelming at times, its new and passionate and exciting.’

‘And its different to what you have with Elaine,’ Jenna finished. ‘I see that. Problem is she does too and maybe she feels a bit, I don’t know, maybe she thinks you don’t think she’s enough any more.’

Peter flinched at the idea and Jenna contemplated. If the situation had been reversed. If she had married Peter and let him away for a weekend thinking she was a strong modern woman in an open relationship who was completely OK with that, how might she have begun to feel? She’d be curious. Very curious. Perhaps she had gone so far as to go online and see photographs of them together at the convention or in the airports before and after take off, where the press waited for them and snapped candid stills. Jenna knew how they looked, always close together, always laughing. Peter was always touching her, arm around her shoulders, waist, hips. If she had been the wife what would she be thinking? Photographs could say a lot, not always something truthful.

There was a clatter at her front door and Jenna looked up quickly, excusing herself and trotting out into the hall to find a brown envelope on the doormat. She knew immediately what it had to be after speaking with Peter earlier, and so opened the door and looked up and down the road urgently. After a minute she gave up, irritated. Of course there was no one there, so she locked the door and returned to the kitchen.

She dropped the envelope in front of Peter who groaned and went back to thumb chewing.

‘Photos?’ she asked.

He grunted yes.

Jenna opened the envelope and tipped them out, six of them taken in rapid succession. She looked over them all, looked at herself and Peter and how people might interpret their positions.

‘Shit,’ she said. ‘We do look like we’re making out rather than saying goodbye.’

‘I know, but you can’t ascertain from that I stayed the night as Elaine thinks.’

‘You got out the taxi, there are no pictures of you getting back in. We’re outside my house, you can see the number.’

‘Then why would I be kissing you in the street? Why not wait til we were indoors?’

Jenna sighed, ‘You know what, Elaine’s not going to be thinking that clearly. All she sees is her husband kissing his co-star, who he’s been away with for days in private, who she said he could have sex with to fulfil his deepest wish.’

Peter said nothing.

‘Who took these? The taxi driver?’ Jenna asked.

‘Must have been. The angle’s right, the lighting is poor, probably a phone camera.’

Jenna laughed a little, ‘I forget you’re the photography expert.’

‘Comes in useful,’ he said bitterly.

‘What does he want? Is he trying to bribe us?’ Jenna asked. ‘Is he going to try and sell a story?’

‘If he does I am in so much trouble,’ Peter said anxiously.

‘Do you remember the taxi firm?’

‘Yes, why?’

‘Because you need to contact them, him, or rather your solicitor does. ASAP. They will have a record of his shouts last night. You need to stop him doing whatever he’s about to do with these photos.’

Peter peered at her over his mug. ‘You mean like a super injunction?’

‘I don’t know how it all works but yeah, stop him going public accusing you of having an affair.’

‘Jenna I should really be trying to fix things with Elaine.’

‘Trust me if this gets out you’ll never fix things with Elaine. If you get this sorted, she’ll thank you for it too. Brownie points.’

‘I suppose so…’ he swirled his tea, a non committal despondent action. Jenna squeezed his arm.

‘We can fix this,’ she said, ‘The A team remember?’

‘I’ve no doubt,’ he replied, ‘I’ve got a good solicitor and as you say if we get onto it now…’

Jenna watched his face, ‘And Elaine?’ she prompted, ‘You know once things are calmer that you have thirty years of friendship and love between you. It can be repaired. It can.’

Peter put the mug down and rubbed both hands over his face, coming to a rest in his thick silver hair.

‘What have I been doing, Jenna?’ he asked. ‘What on earth possessed me?’

She tried to smile but it hurt so very much to hear him say that. Her worries from earlier that she was somehow responsible for Peter developing an ability to lie, for corrupting him, returned two fold. She adored him, a sweet, kind, unique human being with a heart of absolute gold, and she had wanted a part of that so she had grabbed at it with both hands this weekend. And now…

Now things were falling apart. She remembered how angst ridden he had been in the hotel. She had witnessed his worry and his guilt at first hand. Now his wife thought he was capable of a long term affair, of deliberately going behind her back and hurting her. That wasn’t Peter, that was about as far from Peter’s personality as could be. Elaine had to be beside herself with confusion.

‘It’s my fault,’ Jenna said.

‘Hardly,’ he scoffed.

‘No, it is. I wanted you and I knew you were married. When you offered me a way round that I just jumped at it rather than think it through. It was too good to be true. I cared about you so much but I was selfish enough to take what I could with no thought for your life beyond me, or for Elaine. It’s my fault, Peter.’

She got up quickly and removed their empty mugs before he could get a good look at her. She would not cry, she wouldn’t because she knew it made any resolve he had dwindle and she wouldn’t play emotional games. She put the mugs in the sink.

‘Call your solicitor,’ she said over her shoulder.

‘Jenna, it’s not your fault…Elaine even admits she pushed us in this direction…if anything it’s my fault for…’

‘Call them!’ she left the room quickly and slipped into the bathroom just as fast, locking the door behind her as the first of her tears started to fall. Maybe it wasn’t entirely her fault but she had at least half of the responsibility. The good times they shared at the weekend now seemed so minor in the face of damaging Peter’s marriage, of hurting Elaine to the extent she had thrown him out of his home and couldn’t bear to see him. Jenna was responsible for some of that. She had been selfish, so selfish and now she had to stay strong; help him rebuild, maybe speak to Elaine herself, try and help sort out this injunction to save his reputation.

She went to the sink and wiped her face dry, resolute there would be no more tears.

‘You’re his friend,’ she said to the mirror, ‘Just his friend and for that you are blessed enough. Love him if you must, but love him the right way.’ She sniffed and set about tying her hair back, pulling herself together, putting on a face. She’d fix this, even if her heart never stopped hurting, she wouldn’t let him down.

 

 

 

 


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter seeks refuge with Jenna and they wonder 'what now?'

He was rapidly discovering he was useless without Elaine; she was the one with the sharp mind and the no nonsense attitude. She was the one that didn’t suffer fools and could make things happen. He had a tendency to quietly take it and take it until once in a blue moon he would blow. He got distracted too, he’d wander off with tasks half done or fail to generate the motivation to do them in the first place. If something was difficult and didn’t interest him there was no chance he’d do it. Whereas if he liked it, no matter how tricky it might be, he could be absorbed for hours. He would never have survived a desk job.

It was Elaine who was the powerhouse, behind their marriage, behind his career, behind his success. She’d sensed his inability to have that desk job without going mad. She was the one who sacrificed her dreams so he could still enjoy the variety of acting. She was the one that prodded him and told him to get off the couch and audition, or get out to the studio in their garden and write that script. She was the one that gave him such leeway, such indulgence, she lived to make him happy and was open to anything, projects, trips, weekends away.

Elaine had such a sense of adventure and such humour, such confidence, it was easy to forget sometimes how much she needed him, and he had told her today he needed Jenna. What a slap in the face for a wife who had given him his fantasy with just a couple of rules and he’d apparently broken them without care. He was sharing his love when she was entitled to all of it, and she wouldn’t stand for it. Her hurt would turn to full blown anger, he knew that much,

Today he needed the motivating factor his wife leant to him, and of course there was no Elaine. Today he had a million things on his mind, a million more he could be doing to try and ameliorate the situation but without her sense of direction he’d got stuck, overwhelmed and frightened, sitting at the kitchen table while Jenna was in the bathroom, just looking at his solicitor’s number in his contacts. He’d have to explain it all, and that made it all so real, so much more scary. He just wanted to run and hide, maybe get under a duvet and never leave the house again. He felt so guilty, so useless, so lost. He wanted to ask Elaine what to do and he knew that was pathetic.

Someone else had to take control, it was the catalyst to him ever getting anything done. So Jenna had come back from the bathroom, hair up, makeup on, and taken the phone from him, checked his call logs, correctly surmised he hadn’t called yet. She meant business and she glared at him with her arms folded and the phone safely tucked in one hand for almost a minute.

‘I’ll do it, in a few,’ he said wearily.

‘You’ll do it now, the longer you wait the more likely this stuff will hit the fan,’ and she pressed the dial button so that he had no choice. Sometimes she reminded him of Elaine so much, and that fact alone made him feel uncomfortable. They didn’t look alike but they were both quite formidable at times. Was it wrong to find that attractive? He wasn’t sure. Finding a type of girl surely wasn’t strange, but cheating, especially cheating on one woman with another who reminded you of her, that was another matter entirely.

Now Peter stared at the ceiling of Jenna’s living room while she was out buying food to fill her empty fridge after the weekend at the convention. He knew he shouldn’t still be in her house but quite frankly where else did he have right now? He didn’t fancy explaining himself to any other friend. Half of them thought he and Jenna were at it anyway and needed to be constantly assured it wasn’t the case. They’d laugh and say they never really believed Peter was capable of infidelity, but he suspected that they suspected, that he was. And he was, as it turned out.

He hadn’t thought himself capable either.

‘I’ve cheated on my wife,’ he said out loud, ‘I’ve _cheated_ , on Elaine. _Elaine._ ’ He surprised and disgusted himself. The words sounded so out of place, so completely wrong coming from his mouth like the very worst of curse words. ‘What is the matter with me? I love Elaine, I’ve always loved her. I’ve never wanted to cheat.’

He felt for his phone on the seat beside him and brought it to his face. No missed calls. No texts. This was bad news on two counts. Firstly, Elaine hadn’t called back or responded in any way, and secondly neither had his lawyer who was currently doing battle with Mark Jones, taxi driver and blackmailer. He sighed and opened his ‘compose messages.’

_Please speak to me, or let me know you will soon. I’m so sorry._

He sent the message and flopped back again. He should probably stop hassling her, she needed time to cool off and think. Time to digest what had happened that morning and maybe, hopefully, come to the conclusion he really wasn’t having a long term affair. Except of course where was he now? Jenna’s place. If any press saw him coming and going from here, and if Mark Jones sold his story, people would add two and two and get thirteen.

He shouldn’t be here. He should be in a hotel. He considered it for a moment but that would look weird too when he had a house in London.

Excuses.

He wanted to be here, he couldn’t stand to be alone. He felt like his world was crumbling and there was nothing to hold onto. Jenna made him feel safe, she had made him call the solicitor and made him drink sweet tea. She had promised him she was there for him through all of it, no matter how it went and he believed her. She was currently his strength and he needed her. He needed her a lot, but that had been the problem to start with.

Was it fair on her? That was his other worry. Jenna loved him, in much the same way he loved her and he would have done anything to try and help her in a similar situation. But was it fair, how could they get over one another if they remained the kind of close friends that put each other up during marital crises.

A thought crossed his mind. Was she hanging in there in case his marriage ended? Was she opportunistic? He didn’t think so, he knew her too well. She was quite genuine when she said how shocked and saddened she was by Elaine’s actions that morning. She was utterly convinced it could come right. It didn’t mean she didn’t love him but he was a married man, he always had been and she was no fool. Married men usually go back to their wives in his experience and she must have seen something similar. The fantasy of the sugar daddy rarely worked. She can’t have been expecting anything long term, right?

Well she wasn’t until he had mentioned the possibility and then just as quickly backtracked. That hadn’t been fair either. He wished he could read her mind; he was sure he’d left it muddled.

Love doesn’t work rationally. She could tell herself she knew it wouldn’t work and still her heart would ache. He was sure she was hurting; just like he was, and it wasn’t about to evaporate because she was trying to help him fix things with Elaine. Whether or not she would try and hang in there with him, deliberately or accidentally, was another matter.

‘Capaldi, you need to sort yourself out, for her and for you,’ he said to the room.

Despite his disgust and pain for hurting the woman who’d given him the best part of her life, Peter was also aware of a different shade of heartbreak reserved for Jenna. The ache came from both sides. He loved Jenna too, he’d broken it off and now here he was relying on her care. He was relying on that love they shared, the love she still felt too, that special unique bond they’d had since day one, to help him fix his marriage, and that was _wrong_. Jenna was being brave, he’d seen that particular smile she wore when Richard split with her the first time. The dimples were missing and when they vanished she was usually hiding something.

Both women loved him. He loved both women. He had thirty years with one and just under three with the other as friends, three days as lovers. On paper the decision was simple.

‘Go back to your wife,’ he said aloud.

There was a rustle behind him as Jenna put her bags down. ‘You are, aren’t you?’ she said trying to disguise something in her voice, ‘I thought we spoke about that already.’

He quickly sat up and turned to face her, ‘Sorry, sorry I was talking to myself. Trying to think through it all again.’

‘Stop thinking,’ Jenna instructed, ‘Complicates things. Just wait for her to contact you. Did you sort the solicitor?’

‘Yes, just waiting on a call back. Waiting for Elaine too.’

She nodded silently at the mentioned of Elaine and lifted the bags again, headed for the kitchen, ‘Good,’ she carolled after a long pause. She moved efficiently, stiffly, every muscle taut and tense and again he felt guilt. He was beginning to wonder how on earth he would get through the rest of the day, never mind resolve his dilemma.

Two different kinds of love. Long term, shared experience and companionship, a love he couldn’t imagine ever losing with Elaine, versus this new and overwhelming experience he had just had with Jenna, intense, connected, beautiful. He wanted more, but knew it to be wrong, morally.

Morals mattered to him, commitment and faithfulness mattered. So he had absolutely chosen to be back with Elaine and Jenna had agreed he do just that, supported him despite the tears. He shouldn’t still be debating. He sighed as he listened to Jenna rattle round the kitchen. He so desperately wanted to go in there, put his arms around her, bury his face in her hair and breathe her in. He wanted that closeness, that comfort. He wanted to make love to her, make her feel everything was going to be fine, because they had each other, because he loved her so much.

But he mustn’t. He shouldn’t even think it. How do you shut down feelings? How could he stop his need for Jenna?

She reappeared with yet more tea, something she clearly found comforting. She’d bought custard creams too to make him smile, and sat in the chair to one side of the couch. She looked awkward, small and bunched up and he suddenly realised she was deliberately avoiding him.

‘You can still sit by me,’ he said, ‘I promise not to molest you or anything,’

Jenna smiled, ‘It’s not you I don’t trust,’ she said, ‘Sorry I shouldn’t have said that, I just. I keep wanting to…’

Peter looked away, ‘Oh…’

‘Oh, no not that, I don’t mean that,’ she corrected quickly, ‘That makes me sound like a nymphomaniac or something. I just mean that I want to give you a cuddle, make it all better, or sit close to you. I have to remember that’s not what we’re doing.’

‘Jenna I’m sorry,’

‘I’m not saying this stuff to make you feel bad,’ she assured.

‘I don’t need you to, I’m already there,’ he said, ‘Please come and sit with me, you would have before this weekend. I thought we would go back to being friends.’

Jenna looked into her mug, ‘You don’t go back to being just friends that easily after you, after something as special as this weekend happens,’ she tried to explain, ‘you have to wait for it to… settle. Please don’t take that the wrong way.’ She watched his response, the slight movement in the muscles of his jaw. ‘Right now I still just want you to hold me and that’s hard.’

‘God I shouldn’t be here, all I’m doing is making things worse,’ he said quietly, his voice rough.

‘I want you here, I want to help. Peter I really care about you and what happens with your marriage. I love you.’

‘That doesn’t even make sense, can’t you see the irony,’ he said, ‘If you love me why aren’t you… I don’t know… fighting for our relationship. All you’ve done is just accept it can’t be. Laid down and taken it...let it hurt… it just isn’t like you...’

Jenna’s eyes widened, ‘You seriously want me to make this more difficult? Would you like me to go round and have a scrap with Elaine, do a bit of hair pulling and see who comes off worse? Winner gets all?’

Peter sat back with a huff, ‘No, Jenna,’ he said, aware of an edge to his voice that was usually only brink of extreme fatigue. He wrestled to quell it.

‘I cannot believe that even entered your head,’ she continued, ‘That’s so arrogant apart from anything else. You’re not an arrogant person. It seems to me this whole business is poisoning you. Sneaking about, lying, and now this. Don’t you _dare_ question how I feel, I’m trying to help you, trying to make it easier. Don’t query my motives, this isn’t easy for me at all. What’s wrong with you, you’re acting so… not like Peter.’

Peter took a few deep breaths, forced himself calmer. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know that’s what you’re doing, trying to help, I just… I don’t know why it bothers me so much. You were distraught and now you’re on Elaine’s side. Dusted yourself down and started again. I know underneath you’re hurting but…’

‘You have _no_ idea how much I’m hurting,’ Jenna snapped, ‘But I am trying to be a grown up. I am _trying_ to help you save thirty years of emotional investment. I’m trying to do the right thing by you.’

‘What about the right thing by you?’ he asked quietly.

‘This is the right thing by me,’ she said, sounding unsure if she even believed it herself. He looked at her incredulously from the couch. He couldn’t shake his irritability.

‘Right,’ he said dully, ‘Of course it is.’

There was a heavy and uncomfortable silence. He couldn’t work out why he was so frustrated with her. Jenna who was so good and kind she didn’t want to wreck his marriage, who wanted to support him and clear up the mess they made for each other. Was he really so arrogant he wanted her to spell out how hard it was? Was his ego that fragile? He’d been with her at the weekend, he knew exactly what she felt, what he felt, how strong it was and it was still there. She was doing her best in an agonising situation. He should shut up and be grateful to her.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said after a few minutes. He had to get this under control, or he’d barely recognise himself soon.

‘It’s fine,’ she replied distantly. Peter glanced across at her small figure huddled in the chair, her cold mug of tea in her hands and two wet streaks on her cheeks. She was looking at the carpet resolutely and wouldn’t raise her eyes. His heart ached at the sight and his irritability vanished.

‘Jenna…’ he said kindly, ‘Please…’

‘Proof,’ she said, looking up at him.

‘What?’

She gestured with one hand to her face.

‘Proof I’m hurting, proof I do love you. Is it enough?’ Her voice wasn’t cruel but he didn’t need it to be.

‘Christ, girl, please don’t…’ his stomach dropped and he felt ill with shame for what he’d been saying.

‘I don’t intend to,’ Jenna said wiping her tears with her sleeve, and trying to smile, ‘I need to keep these at bay, or I’ll never stop crying. It’ll be like the other day all over again. ’

‘I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s got into me,’ he said.

‘I’m guessing you’re a bit stressed,’ Jenna smiled, the dimple free smile. ‘But please, from now on, please believe me when I say I want to help, please accept I love you. Don’t make this harder, because I will reach a point where enough is enough, and I’d have to turn my back for my sake. I don’t want that, I don’t want to ever lose you.’

‘Neither do I…’ he said.

Jenna’s smile faded a little, struggled to keep its place on her lips. ‘I’ve never felt like this for anyone, Peter, that’s probably the whole reason why I can let you go, because I don’t want you to go through the pain of a marriage break up. I don’t know how things are going to pan out, but don’t ever doubt me.’

‘I don’t deserve you,’ he said, ‘I don’t deserve you to be so understanding.’

‘Both of us knew deep down what we were doing was wrong I think,’ Jenna said, ‘There was just no resisting it. We didn’t go into this to hurt people…. Or to end up falling in love.’

‘Two major complications,’ he admitted.

Jenna got up and collected his mug, dangling it from her left hand along with her own. She stood near him and held out her right.

‘Friends?’ she asked and he took her hand, so small compared to his, and kissed the back of it.

‘Friends,’ he said, though it hurt to say the word.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter's feeling hopeless, Jenna's struggling with her love for him while trying to do the right thing, but its all going nowhere until she pays a visit to someone important,

The change in Peter worried Jenna. Elaine was like a part of him and without her, without contact he seemed to be shrinking, withdrawing from the world and even her. Days went by. His solicitor warded off the taxi driver with a bribe but warned Peter of a number of other photographs which might or might not hit the press if any clue about their relationship was leaked. Peter didn’t think there were any clues.

The public knew them to be affectionate friends, prone to hugging and kissing in public. Anything untoward could be written off as one of these times. Jenna wasn’t as sure. What if there were more serious incidents? What if someone from the hotels noticed they shared a room for example? Peter didn’t want to or couldn’t address that, they were an unlikely and unrealistic couple because of their age gap and her position as ‘out of his league,’ any issues could be swept under the carpet, he said.

Not so at Jenna’s house however, the issue was very much in the air. She had never felt tense around him, but now there was a permeating awkwardness which went beyond any sexual tension alone. To add to their own feelings it had been almost a week since Elaine had forced him from their home and she had made no significant contact barring a text which read:

_Will contact you when I am ready. Stop hassle with calls and text. Make an effort. E_

Jenna had been there in the doorway to his room, when his phone had bleeped, saw the hope cross his face for a moment as he rushed to read the message, and witnessed the slump back into the pillows, the closed eyes and the steadying breath he took. He was so worn by it all, it was like he was grieving, the most stable element of his life, just gone.

‘No luck?’ Jenna asked.

‘No, just another ‘get lost,’ message. She’ll be in touch when she’s in touch. Probably with divorce papers.’

‘You don’t know that.’

‘Well it’s not looking so good is it?’ he said. Jenna regarded his gaunt features and dark eyes, the T-shirt he had had on the best part of the week. He wasn’t eating really and she knew he was up half the night, quietly pacing and drinking coffee. She’d heard him crying more than once, hovered outside his door wishing she had the strength to go in and hold him but knowing it was wrong. She tried to help in other ways.

‘Come on,’ she gestured to him, ‘Give me your things, I’ll get them washed for you, might make you feel a bit better.’

‘I can wash my own clothes, Jenna.’

‘I’m sure you can,’ she smiled, ‘but you haven’t.’ He looked at her suddenly ashamed.

‘I didn’t think… I suppose I’m used to… I mean I don’t have to…’ he covered his face, ‘Sorry.’

Jenna crossed to his case and lifted the bundle of clothes into her arms. ‘T-shirt,’ she commanded as she turned to him. ‘Come on, off with it, I can do the jeans too.’

He slowly dragged himself from the bed and stood awkwardly next to her.

‘Um... I don’t think I should do this with you in the room,’ he said, his hands ready to pull the shirt from his body. Jenna made a noise of realisation.

‘Sorry! Sorry, I forgot,’ she said, ‘I’ll just be outside. Pass what you want done to me when you’re ready. I’ll run them all through this afternoon and get them back to you.’

She left promptly and hovered in the upstairs hall. Behind the door Peter was stripping down to his boxers, and the thought alone was distracting her. She cursed herself, she’d been doing so well all week, gradually she thought, trying to re-educate herself about their friendship. Just a friendship. No stray touches, no long looks, no imagining him without his shirt. Her imagination and her memory were betraying her. Peter was in crisis; this was no time to be thinking like that. That was not her _role_. Think of it as a role.

The door clicked behind her and a smaller bundle of clothes was passed around it before it slid shut again. Jenna turned to try and catch him, say something, but the door was firmly closed. She stood uncertainly for a second, did she knock, have a chat, try and prise him out of his room? He was spending too much time in there brooding, it wasn’t healthy. She was sure he could wrap himself in a towel or something and come downstairs for some tea. Maybe she could even get him to eat something.

The silence from behind the door dampened her spirits and her courage and she vowed to try later why she delivered his clean clothes. She went back down the stairs to the utilities room and started loading the washer. Most of Peter’s clothes were black, so they could all go in together. She reached the last T-shirt, the one he had just removed and paused. Her was still warm from his skin.

She knew she shouldn’t. She knew what it would do to her state of mind. She knew it was a bad idea but she couldn’t help it, she bent and buried her nose in the warm shirt, breathed in deeply. It smelled slightly of his aftershave but more now of him after a few days’ wear. It smelled the way he smelled when she laid her head on his chest, when he had his arms around her, when they had made love. It smelled the way she remembered ‘happiness’ smelled.

There were tears in her eyes already and she forced herself to stop. Squatting by the washing machine and debating with herself what to do next. A huge part of her wanted to keep the shirt as it was and claim she’d managed to lose or damage it, but the rest of her recognised this as a slippery slope. She had to let go, of the shirt, of how she felt, and of him. She had to.

‘Come on, Jenna,’ she muttered.

Jenna put it in the washer and shut the door. She watched the water flood it from above and wash away the scent she found so comforting and then went to sit in the quiet kitchen, listening for any movement upstairs. He could be up there for hours, so isolated, so unlike him. What did he do all those hours? When was this going to change, where the hell was Elaine? She had to talk to him, what he had done was wrong but this was unfair. Thirty years of faithfulness and one stupid weekend and she wouldn’t phone him?

Jenna suddenly felt angry, her emotional state swinging from fragile to livid. Whatever he had done he deserved better. She knew how often he had tried to phone and apologise, how upset he’d become when the line was just dead. Even most texts were blanked. There was one thing however he hadn’t tried.

Jenna trotted back up the stairs, knocked loudly on the door so he couldn’t pretend he hadn’t heard.

‘It’s me,’ she said.

‘Who else would it be?’ he replied.

‘Peter I’ve been thinking, Elaine’s not responding to phonecalls and that’s giving her too much control. You’ve done your bit, you’ve waited, this is getting ridiculous, she needs to speak with you.’

‘She does,’ he agreed sadly. ‘I can’t stand this much longer, just this silence.’

‘Well… why don’t you go over there. Knock on the door. Stand on the bloody doorstep until she responds.’

There was a pause. ‘She’ll go crazy if I just appear.’

‘You have a right to appear, it’s your home too, she’s still your wife, you need to talk.’

‘Maybe, but not today.’

‘Why not?’ she demanded.

‘Well for a start all my clothes are in the machine,’ his voice was becoming irritable again.

Jenna puffed through her lips, ‘They will dry you know, you could go later.’

‘Not today,’ he said snippily, and then, ‘I don’t know, I’ll think about it, sorry.’

‘You’re scared,’ she leaned her forehead against the door. ‘Is that what it is? Scared of what you’ll find?’

Another pause then, ‘Of course I’m scared Jenna. If I go there she might just say it’s over. Really truly over, that she’s had time to think and that’s her decision.’

‘She might not… she probably won’t!’

‘Don’t you think if we had a chance to repair this she would have contacted me by now?’ he asked.

‘You don’t know that…’ Jenna encouraged.

‘Sorry Jenna, but no, I’m not ready for that.’

‘You can’t stay in there forever, avoiding the truth.’

‘I’m not asking for forever, just a couple more days.’

‘Peter!’

‘No, Jenna, not now.’

She stepped back from the door in frustration wondering if she could somehow drag him over there later or kidnap Elaine and bring her to the house. Neither option seemed viable. They were in limbo and if she was honest, it was hard, really hard, to see him that way. All she wanted to do was make it better, put her arms around him, reassure him, but she couldn’t and daren’t do any of those things.

She stood by the landing window and looked down onto her street, at the cars parked up and down the road. There was something she could do.

‘Peter I’m popping out, I’ll be back soon, your stuff will need switching to the dryer in about forty minutes. Low heat or it’ll damage the print on the T-shirt. Got that? Peter?’

‘Yes, fine,’ he called.

Jenna hesitated, should she really be doing this, was it actually a good idea? It might just fan the flames of their breakup and make everything worse, but as it was nothing was changing or improving in any way. If she could put her side of the story, if she could apologise too and tell her just how this was effecting Peter?

She made her way back downstairs and gathered her bag and coat, leaving the house and heading for her car. She could walk it was close enough, but she wanted to arrive cool and calm. It took minutes to get to Peter’s house and then she sat nervously looking at the door, clutching her steering wheel.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. She shouldn’t interfere and she knew Elaine had every right to send her away with her tail between her legs. But that was part of it wasn’t it? Consequences were part of life, part of decisions and mistakes. She could face this, like the grown up she was trying to be this week.

Jenna shut her eyes and did some deep breathing, grounding herself on the steering wheel and trying to compose her mind. She was doing this for the right reasons and it was quite possible Elaine would hear her out at least, she was an intellectual, Peter said, she liked to hear the arguments. Most importantly Jenna was doing this for Peter and to make up for everything that had gone wrong… because of her.

She shrieked when the window rattled to her left. Shrieked and looked quickly over, wound down the window out of politeness.

‘Hi,’ Elaine said, leaning one hand on the door of the car. ‘Saw you parked up, figured you were here to see me?’

Jenna tried to get her words out in some sort of sensible order. ‘Wanted… talk to you.’

‘Did you now?’ Elaine asked. She didn’t appear angry or inhospitable in any way she just seemed perplexed as to why Jenna of all people should arrive at her doorstep. ‘Where’s Peter? I mean he is staying with you isn’t he?’

‘Yes,’ she admitted and watched Elaine’s pupils shrink in anger. ‘But it’s not how you might be imagining it. I came to tell his side, our side.’

Elaine pursed her lips slightly and looked back at the house. ‘I suppose that’s fair,’ she said, ‘But why didn’t he come?’ She looked back at Jenna and suddenly her face registered worry without a shred of animosity.

‘He’s… not doing great,’ Jenna said. ‘I think he’s frightened if he comes here and speak to you then that’s it, all over, he can’t bear the idea.’

‘He’s a softie,’ Elaine said with a genuine smile, ‘Daft man, he doesn’t need to be scared. It’s only me, I’m not going to do anything to him.’

‘He doesn’t know that,’ Jenna explained.

Elaine looked at her closely for a moment, taking in her eyes in particular, searching them for something. At last she seemed to find it, whatever she was seeking.

‘Come on then, come inside,’ she said as Jenna scrabbled after her, ‘Tell me exactly what’s been going on, the truth Jenna,’ she stopped on the stairs and looked down at the younger woman, ‘I always liked you,’ she said, ‘That was half the reason I told him he could have his night with you, or his weekend, whatever I agreed to, let’s not nit-pick. I don’t think you’re a bad person, I don’t think you’re solely to blame, but in order for me to keep thinking that I need you to be honest.’

‘I can do that,’ Jenna assured. ‘That’s what I want, for us to be honest and sort this out. For us all to stop hurting each other.’

‘I hope so,’ Elaine opened the door, ‘Because if we don’t manage it, we’ve all got an awful lot to lose.’

 

 

 

 


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elaine has regained her composure and had some time to think about things but how are they going to fix things for everyone? IS there even a way? Jenna and her have a long chat about Peter and Elaine reveals a secret.

Jenna followed Elaine through the familiar lay out of Peter’s home. On so many occasions she had been there for dinner, or coffee, or to watch _Doctor Who_ as it went out on a Saturday night. Sometimes other members of the cast or crew would be there too. Sometimes just the three of them, Jenna, Peter and his wife. They got on, same humour, same interests. Elaine was fascinating and bright and shared secrets of the trade. Peter adored entertaining the two women he spent the most time with in the world, and Jenna felt part of something undefined but good. There wasn’t a hint of jealousy or awkwardness back then.

They usually sat in the front living room. The one decked out in warm colours and welcoming big sofas. It had a real sense of family to it. Some of Peter’s artwork was on the walls, there were photographs of family from both sides of the marriage, pictures of their daughter and awards. So many awards it made Jenna’s mind boggle. Not just where Peter was concerned, he had his share, not least the sparkling Oscar on the mantelpiece, but Elaine in her own right had a clutch for the production of significant dramas both in London and in Scotland. She was frequently away doing just that and on those weekends Peter used to hang about in Wales, lost and bored, until she called him and told him what to do with himself.

He visited the Doctor Who Experience and spoke to fans, posed for photographs, made a hundred peoples day and it was all, Jenna later found out, down to his wife persuading him it would be fun for him and the fans. He came from a family full of women and he looked to them for direction. He was just the same on the set those first few days on the show. He gravitated to Jenna not just because she was his opposite co-star but because she made him feel safe.

Elaine led Jenna past the door to the living room and further into the house until she reached a closed white door. She pushed open the gold handle and Jenna was struck by a flood of glorious sunshine streaming from French windows flanked by two more large panes. A light net curtain floated in the breeze formed by the open glass doors and it billowed softly in the quiet room. Elaine stepped forward to close it and Jenna looked around.

This room was more feminine, decorated in whites and apple greens, and it had something of Jane Austen to its dimensions and décor. It was very clearly Elaine’s sanctuary and Jenna felt more than slightly uncomfortable to be there behind the door in her private sitting room. There was evidence of recent work on a TV show, several scripts piled on one another with pen marks in the margins. A laptop, open but switched off, and an empty cup on the elegant desk. Jenna stood between several graceful looking chairs upholstered in that delicate pale green and waited for permission to sit; something she had never felt necessary in that house before.

But this was Elaine’s territory and she wanted to respect that, so it wasn’t until Elaine turned back to her and gestured at one of the chairs that Jenna finally sat down, right on the edge of the seat, hands folded on her lap like a child. Elaine sat opposite, smoothing the skirt of her pale yellow sundress under her so as not to crease it. She leaned on one elbow.

‘Try to relax,’ she said, ‘I’m not going to tear a strip off you.’

‘You’d be more than entitled to,’ Jenna said.

‘Would I?’ Elaine raised one well kempt brow, ‘It was me who started all this. If I had left Peter to his brooding he’d probably never have got up the courage to pursue you. He would have filmed those final scenes with you, fantasised a little about what could have been, and then said goodbye.’

Jenna knew she was right. His fundamental lack of confidence would have prevented any infidelity. He had needed his wife’s blessing from the start, he simply didn’t have it in him to cheat otherwise, it went against his entire moral code. This thing had started with Elaine’s permission and then gradually grown out of control. It had gone from a bit of fun, permitted once, even encouraged, to mutual heartbreak. She looked at her hands, knowing she had played her part.

‘We’re all responsible,’ Jenna said and Elaine cocked her head slightly.

‘Go on,’ she said.

Jenna sighed. ‘Peter, he… he’s like an enormous child sometimes. Playful and silly and keen to please. He’s excitable, he’s got too much energy. He...’

‘Doesn’t act like he’s fifty-eight?’ Elaine said, ‘Oh I know that. I’ve been moderating his behaviour for years. Getting him to stop, relax, calm down. He burns himself out otherwise.’

‘I know,’ Jenna said, ‘I’ve seen him do it. He just keeps going, eighteen hour days, night shoots, seeing fans in between takes. He gets exhausted, he has to take naps instead of have lunch and if there are people waiting for him, wanting to meet him, he’ll sacrifice naps too. Thing is I can see him hurtling towards a crash and usually I step in and stop him, as his friend. I get him something to eat, or insist he just sits down for half an hour.’

‘And?’ Elaine asked, like a teacher prompting her student.

‘And I should have stopped this before it started. Because I knew it wouldn’t work of course it wouldn’t. It was wrong and immoral and against everything he believes in and I should have protected him from that when I saw it coming. I was selfish because I wanted it but I knew deep down I think that it would end badly for all of us. That we wouldn’t be able to stop without hurting one another… or you.’

‘How, how would we all end up hurting? I had OK’d it.’

‘Because he just goes for it doesn’t he?’ Jenna said, ‘No half measures. Once the starting gun has been fired he gives one hundred percent. Just once was never going to happen, we just told ourselves that,’ she confessed honestly.

Elaine passed a finger over her lips as she leaned on the arm of the chair. She watched Jenna explain herself through clear, still eyes.

‘He gives a hundred percent,’ she echoed, ‘I know he does. In work, as a father, a friend. In love. Particularly in love. He gives everything rightly or wrongly, gets himself in a mess, breaks his heart. Accidently breaks yours, or mine.’

‘I should have put a stop to it, not acted like a teenager,’ Jenna said. ‘I know what he’s like. He soft. He’s the kindest man I know; he’d give you anything to make you happy. When you’re his friend you are so, so lucky, so blessed to know him. I wanted all of that, and I also wanted to be special to him, I wanted to symbolise that specialness somehow and he had your permission so I thought ‘great’ and I took advantage of that.’

‘He took advantage of you too,’ Elaine said.

‘How do you get that?’

‘Everything you’ve just said, everything about how much you cared for him, looked out for him. It was obvious your feelings ran deeper, but he went there anyway.’

‘It wasn’t like that, we both wanted it… we just both wanted it too much to keep things to the agreement.’

‘You both knew it was probably unwise.’

‘If it was so unwise why did you suggest it?’ Jenna asked suddenly, the tone of the conversation changing subtly. It had always seemed an odd thing for a wife to do, even in the most secure relationship. Elaine glanced to her left briefly and removed her hand from her chin, sitting up straighter in her chair.

‘I wish I hadn’t,’ Elaine said honestly, looking up at Jenna. She straightened herself again, fiddled with her skirt. ‘Look, I like to think I’m a pretty modern woman. I call the shots in my work, and to a large extent at home. And I’m fair, I’m very fair. I like to be objective, give things and people a chance, I try not to judge.’

Jenna nodded, so far the description Elaine gave herself was an accurate one from what she’d seen, what Peter had described. Strong, intelligent and just that little bit unusual.

‘I also like to pride myself in my marriage,’ she continued. ‘In this business thirty years together is practically non-existent. Peter and I work well together, always have, though I suspect that’s because most of the time he just looks at me with his big eyes and does whatever I ask him. He doesn’t argue, he doesn’t get angry. He’s incredibly sweet.’

Again Jenna nodded. It sounded like Peter. When he had spoken of his wife in the past he had given the impression he would do anything for her, that she was his whole world and that would never change. They were solid, or they had been.

Elaine smiled thinking of him, ‘I’ve been hugely lucky. We were together quite some time before I really realised that. And even then I don’t think I realised how much I needed him until all this, I take him for granted quite a bit. All those romantic gestures, all his excitement when he gets home and sees me. People don’t always have that in a marriage and I just thought that was how it was for long enough.’

‘It’s rare,’ Jenna admitted, ‘I look at you both and wish I have what you do.’

‘It takes work,’ Elaine said, ‘And… sometimes sacrifice, and sometimes you need to test things.’ She appeared to debate with herself for a moment. ‘There was a time when Peter made the same offer to me, early on, when I didn’t appreciate him as much as I do now,’ Elaine said suddenly, ‘There was a man, I don’t need to give you details, but we got close, there was chemistry. It was threatening to affect our marriage, or engagement as it was then, and Peter, he let me experiment, discover if it was what I wanted…’

‘He let you…?’ Jenna was aware her mouth was slightly open.

‘He did,’ Elaine said, ‘He told me he loved me enough to let me go there, for a night, and if I came back to him he wanted to just forget it after it was done. I take him for granted but he really did sacrifice his feelings for me then. I went there, did what I did; I got over the guy, I came home.’

‘So you thought you’d offer the same?’

‘Something like that. I thought it would be OK. I thought I understood that type of thing having done it myself and got over that man, I thought it would allow Peter that freedom, help him move on. It was just sex, just a fantasy, just part of the story of your characters almost. You’d filmed all this intensity for months, that can do things to people, it needs an outlet. I really thought it could be that simple because he loved me so much it would never spiral. I was over confident and I misjudged. When I realised I was distraught. He didn’t call from the states and I just knew what had happened, that you were properly bound up in one another all weekend. He got back, told me he’d ended things, which was probably true, but then those photographs… I lost it. I wasn’t thinking straight, and I like to think not just react. Once I thought about it I could see the similarities and difference from what happened with my… experience, now that I'm a bit more sensible again.’

There was a short silence.

‘What are you thinking?’ Elaine asked. ‘Are you shocked?’

‘Maybe a little, but odd things happen in life, I’m learning that its best not to judge. Peter didn’t lie, we’d ended it, the photographs weren’t at all what they looked like, just a goodbye. And, mainly I’m thinking you are very, very lucky,’ Jenna said.

‘So are you,’

‘What?’

Elaine looked at her and raised her eyebrows. ‘He loves you, Jenna, I know that. You don’t have to confirm it and neither does he. You should have seen him when you were leaving and when you fell out of contact. It’s like we said, he loves one hundred percent, no half measures.’

Jenna swallowed and tried to control her threatened tears. She hoped Elaine wouldn’t notice but of course she did, sharp eyed as ever. She reached to a box of tissues beside her and handed Jenna one.

‘You feel the same don’t you?’ Elaine asked and Jenna detected a slight crack to her voice. It wasn’t anger it was a tone that spoke of regret mixed with a slight inevitability.

‘I’ve no right to,’ Jenna said, ‘I know that. I agreed it wouldn’t continue. I’m just sorry that it became so intense, caused so much upheaval. He needs you Elaine, you’re everything to him.’

‘Not anymore,’ Elaine said quietly. ‘Not _everything,_ ’

‘He wants to come home; he’s just terrified he’s really messed up so… I came here to say it’s not all his fault, it’s mine too, and he’s so sorry,’ Jenna said and watched Elaine’s response carefully. She laughed a little, a sad laugh.

‘Oh, he can come home, of course he can. He could have come home days ago if he’d bothered to actually come here rather than hide behind his phone. I mean we’ve been together thirty years did he really think I was going to end things just like that? I just wanted some thinking space. He’s so melodramatic sometimes; most of the time he is so calm but anything to do with me and he just loses the plot.’

‘He loves you,’ Jenna said. ‘He’s scared he’ll lose you. Of how he’ll survive if that happens.’

Elaine watched Jenna as she picked at her cuffs.

‘What will you do?’ she asked her. Jenna shrugged.

‘Pull myself together and get on with it,’ she laughed hopelessly, ‘I don’t know. I have work coming up I can focus on that.’

‘Will you stay in touch with him?’ Elaine asked curiously.

‘I don’t think that would be a good idea,’ Jenna replied.

Elaine pursed her lips and seemed to steady herself for a moment. ‘Part of me is pleased to hear that and part of me isn’t. I don’t think he would do well if he lost you, and that’s me being honest,’ she said. ‘It hurts to say it but the relationship you have, its unique. All that time spent together, all that shared life. I mean nearly three years? That’s more than some marriages, more than flatmates, best friends, family members, all sorts of relationship.’

‘Yes but things change, people move on,’ Jenna said. ‘We have to accept that; people need to move on.’ She sounded robotic.

Elaine eyed her cautiously. ‘Do they? You tried that after that awards ceremony and... what happened after that. He was miserable, I mean really hard to live with, irritable and disinterested. You were…’

‘Miserable,’ Jenna said, ‘But those feelings are consequences for actions. I accept them.’

‘It went beyond that,’ Elaine confessed, ‘I’ve never seen him quite that way, he could go through the motions but there was something, lacking. It broke my heart a little.’

‘He’d get there eventually. And anyway right now he’s at my place locked in the spare room absolutely devastated because he misses _you._ He doesn’t sleep or eat, he’s so unhappy. He needs to come home,’

Elaine’s concern showed in the slight frown on her brow. ‘Maybe he can’t cope without either of us,’ she said. She sighed deeply, ‘I don’t think your relationship is an ordinary affair, Jenna.’

‘What do you mean?’ she asked with a slightly horrified expression. She was trying to persuade Elaine that it was exactly that, a run of the mill fling which could be ended with relative ease.

‘I mean, he’s not going to just move on and forget you. You’ve only been sleeping together a few days but he’s been in love with you since he met you.’

‘No, he hasn’t!’

‘Jenna really? You think he treats everyone the way he treats you? He talks about you endlessly and sprinkles you with compliments. The way he looks at you, always, it’s in any photograph, and incidentally there are hundreds of you, taken by him on the world tour, while you pair are filming, when you meet for coffee, the camera I always there and never lies. He didn’t have to act in _Hell Bent_ or _Face the Raven_. He adores you… he dreams about you…’

‘Dreams about me?’

‘I hear him sometimes. A dream is a dream, it didn’t worry me hugely because Peter has never been unfaithful. Until now. All of a sudden he’s being unfaithful. Ok he had my permission but do you think if I said to him ‘Peter you can sleep with that nice runner from the show’ he’d go for it? No. he wanted you anyway, he just never had the courage or excuse. There is this incredible connection between you, incredible chemistry. He’s been resisting it for years.’

Jenna stared a moment too long and then blushed hard. She blustered the idea away, ‘No, this has to end. It has to. For your marriage, for both your sakes.’

‘And you?’

‘What do I matter? I mean to you? I slept with your husband remember, you’re supposed to not care.’

Elaine looked at her sympathetically, ‘Jenna, I hate that you slept with him, but I’ve always liked you, and back at the start I guided you towards this, I phoned you up and hinted long enough like an idiot because I thought I was some kind of Cool Wife. It’s like we said, not one person’s fault, we are all equally responsible so why should one of us be left unhappy while the other two fix things?’

‘Because that’s what happens,’ Jenna said tiredly, ‘The married couple get back together and the evil other woman lives alone… with a cat.’

Elaine smiled and stifled a laugh despite herself and it reminded Jenna of the evenings they’d spent together with Peter. ‘Jenna, no, you’re not evil.’

‘Someone has to be in this scenario. A common enemy? The girl who slept with your husband and that wicked woman who seduced Peter. If you two believe those standpoints it makes it all so much easier. It’s been so complex, so hard, just think of it all that way and take the free pass back to your marriage. I don’t want him to carry on the way he has been tormenting himself, and I don’t want that for you either. I’m envious of you sure, I don’t hate you.’

Jenna stood up before Elaine could reply and waved her down into her chair again. ‘I’ll see myself out,’ she said, ‘And I’ll tell him that he can come home.’


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of the end? Jenna delivers Elaine's message to Peter.

Maybe Jenna was right. Peter lay flat on the bed, his arms folded behind his head and his gaze directed at the window. The sun was just beginning to move far enough west to come directly through the glass, casting a shard of light across the carpet between the bed and the door. He was wearing a cream towel around his waist and nothing more, Jenna having taken his clothes and insisted on washing them. She had also tried to prise him out of the room that afternoon, tried to tell him to go and see Elaine, but he had hidden from her, unmoving, so she’d taken his t-shirt and jeans, determined to do something positive and motivational. Get cleaned up Peter and you’ll feel better.

And then suddenly she’d taken the car and left. She hadn’t been planning to go anywhere as far as he knew.

The clock ticked on and Jenna hadn’t returned. It was enough to pull him from his introspection. She had ‘popped out’ more than three hours ago. What was she doing? Was she OK? Slowly he got up and moved to the window, looking down on the street. Her car was still missing and there was no sign of her. Peter glanced at the phone in his hand and noted the empty text inbox. He almost didn’t like to cause a fuss or enquire. He had spent the last few days trying to untangle himself emotionally from her, think of himself as just a friend, act like a roommate by self isolating upstairs. Jenna was a grown woman; she could go out for the afternoon if she wanted. Even if that afternoon was starting to stretch into evening.

He should get dressed. Definitely before she got back anyway, wandering the house in a towel was not going to help nurture the platonic side of their relationship. At last he unlocked the door and went downstairs, unloaded the dryer he had transferred his things to an hour before. He didn’t want Jenna to do it, it wasn’t her job, he could do his own washing. There was something very intimate about her cleaning his things, a thing he associated with his wife and something he was trying to avoid. He pulled on his jeans and noted they were loose, patted his stomach experimentally. A week and he’d lost the soft bits around his waist. Normally he’d be pleased but it had been such a week of anxiety and misery he saw the weight loss only as a symptom of those feelings and of the disaster that prompted them.

He didn’t have a clue what to do, where to go, how to fix things. Jenna had taken the stance that he should go back to Elaine and despite her sadness, stuck with it, encouraged him. For his part, the idea that he had blown it with his wife had filled him with a chilling heartfelt terror, a feeling of complete destabilisation from everything he’d known for three decades. She had kept him whole and balanced, he no longer knew who he was without Elaine. He waited for her to contact him, too frightened to do the reverse and maybe ruin things again, but his phone lay silent.

After a while it became clear that both women were waiting for him to make a move and that flummoxed him. He had relied on the strength of women all his life; his mother, grandmother and sister, his wife and now Jenna. He’d do anything for them they just had to say. They just had to make the decision; he didn’t know how to do that himself. Women were in control, they knew what was right and what was wrong and they guided him. The problem was he was stuck between the two, both of them laying claim to a large portion of his heart.

He was turning his T-shirt inside out, warm from the dryer when he heard the front door.

‘Jenna?’ he moved to the kitchen, pulling the shirt on. When his head popped through he found that she had appeared by the door to the hallway.

‘Hi,’ she said quietly. She stood with her hands in her pockets and her whole figure seemed to lack animation, appear frailer than before. She pressed her lips together and then tried a hopeful smile but he knew her too well.

‘What is it?’ he asked, concerned. ‘I was worried; you were gone a while…’

She looked to her left quickly, her eyes becoming glassy with tears. ‘I… um… I went to see Elaine,’ she said as though she couldn’t believe it herself. Peter’s stomach lurched at his wife’s name.

‘What?’ he demanded, nothing short of gobsmacked by the idea of the two of them in one room, discussing the mess that was this situation. ‘Jesus, Jenna, what the hell?’

She looked at him swiftly, he wasn’t usually one for such outbursts.

‘Someone had to do something,’ she said, shrugging, ‘You were getting nowhere, she wasn’t contacting you.’

Peter turned and strode to the far counter of the fitted kitchen, leaned on it a moment. ‘This is my marriage, not yours. What on earth did you think you could do, you’re the last person she would want to see.’ His words sounded harsh to him, she was only trying to help, but really, it wasn’t appropriate. The woman he had cheated on Elaine with, pleading on his behalf. Just how pathetic was he in reality, to apparently send Jenna rather than face Elaine himself?

‘Actually she was very nice,’ Jenna’s voice shook so she cleared her throat to try and steady it. ‘Very understanding. I didn’t deserve it really but she did, she understood more than I thought.’

Peter groaned.

‘She’s very perceptive,’ Jenna said with a bit more determination, ‘Bright… she sees a lot. It’s difficult not to like her.’

He looked up at the ceiling. ‘I already know all that. It actually makes all this harder because she _does_ understand. She can put herself in your shoes and demonstrate incredible empathy when really you just want her to hate you because it’s easier. It made rows hard.’

Jenna smiled sadly, ‘I imagine it made them impossible. Like now. She’s not rowing with you now.’

He snorted and shook his head. ‘No, she’s not rowing with me, she’s just kicked me out,’ he said.

There was silence for a moment, Peter standing with his eyes squeezed shut as though he could block out the entire mess. He could hear Jenna behind him, shuffling and fiddling, her anxiety relentlessly noisy and irritating. Why was he so irritable? Why was anything the way it was today, everything just felt wrong.

The sound of his companion clearing her throat again indicated there was more to her visit to impart. ‘She wants you… she wants you home,’ Jenna said with the slightest quiver of her voice.

Home? Was it still home? And what would he face there if he went? He looked up at the tiles on the kitchen wall directly ahead of him. One was cracked, the smaller piece of ceramic threatening to drop from the grouting.

‘What?’ he asked softly.

‘She says you can come home,’ Jenna said more firmly, ‘Said something like she feels more like her usual self now, she’s calmed down.’

Peter turned slowly to face her.

‘What did you say to her?’ he asked, bewildered.

Jenna sagged against the doorframe a little. ‘I just spoke to her about how I thought you were feeling, hiding away upstairs. How down you’ve been. I told her you needed her and that you were sorry. That… that you loved her. I don’t think any of that is inaccurate, right?’

Peter pulled out a chair and sat heavily at the table. He felt weak, a combination of his emotions and lack of food over the past few days. He roughly ran his hands over his face and looked up at Jenna.

‘No, not inaccurate,’ he admitted, ‘Just… very direct. And a bit... odd coming from you.’

Jenna pushed off the doorframe and came to sit opposite him. ‘You couldn’t keep avoiding it,’ she said, ‘I’m your friend, Peter, I had to do something.’

‘There’s that word again,’ Peter said softly.

‘What?’ she frowned.

‘Friend,’ he sighed, ‘my _friend,_ ’ he smiled sadly.

‘Isn’t that what we are now?’ Jenna asked. Peter carefully raised his eyes to look at her.

‘I suppose that’s what’s left?’ he said quietly, ‘I suppose there isn’t much option there, is there?’ The words formed a question and a part of him desperately wished she would answer differently from the way she did. That something magical would happen to undo all the pain and difficulty they had all been experiencing. Instead she just looked at him sadly, placed one hand over his in the centre of the table.

‘You are married,’ Jenna said, ‘And I know you love your wife, and she loves you, and this…’ she gestured between them, ‘This, whatever it is, was a product of its time. Of our time together on the show and the chemistry that created. It was never meant to be forever, it was a fantasy, a dream. It was something to always remember. And it’s over.’

‘Jenna…’ each word was like a punch to the guts. ‘This wasn’t just about the show…’

‘Peter there are a dozen reasons why you and I can’t happen.’

He laughed; a strained sound. ‘Let me guess, I remember this conversation; I’m twice your age, our careers would suffer, the media would crucify us, we’d never see each other anyway once I go back to Wales. We’ve had these conversations before, Jenna, it’s never changed how I feel, just thrown up obstacles.’

‘Love isn’t enough,’ she said bravely, ‘Life gets in the way. Life makes it hard, impossible sometimes. It is not fair on either of us to try and force this to work when the world is against us, when we don’t even really know what we’re feeling. You clearly still love Elaine,’ she hesitated, ‘And I still care about Richard.’

Peter shook his head, ‘Mr On Again Off Again, Jenna you’ve barely seen him in months, even when you and I have been apart.’

‘I’ve been busy.’

‘You’ve been avoiding him.’

‘Maybe, its been confusing, but that’s what I’m saying,’ Jenna acknowledged. ‘This is too much of a mess, and that’s just the emotional bit. I don’t want you to lose your dream job because the press found out about us. The Doctor’s dirty affair,’ she shrugged and looked down at their joined hands, ‘I wish it was different,’ she whispered, ‘but it isn’t.’

He could feel himself disintegrating from within and it surprised him, the depth of that pain, how fragile it made him feel. How could one weekend with Jenna leave him that vulnerable? He knew the answer lay beyond that weekend, in all the time they had shared before, in all the moments that had become memories.

‘If I had my life all over again… I wish I was twenty years younger,’ he said.

‘Just twenty?’ she asked through the first of her tears. It had been a running joke for months and months but it felt horribly true to both their wishes now, and absolutely humourless.

‘Shut up,’ he tried to stifle the quiver in his jaw, ‘Thirty then.’

They sat for a minute in the quiet of the kitchen, the clock ticking and their disordered breathing the only sounds. He would not break down, he refused, but he could hear Jenna struggling, a hitch now and then giving her away, until at last she pulled her hand free and excused herself. She almost ran from the room for fear of how hard she might cry, and he was left alone.

The feeling of loss, of embryonic anticipatory grief was growing, so he forced himself off the chair a minute or two later and followed Jenna’s path. He found her coming down the stairs with his bag in her hand and the sight surprised him. It all seemed so fast and final.

‘You… want me to go _right now_?’ he asked, hurt in every bone of his body. Jenna looked ashamed.

‘I think it would be easier, if we just grab the bull by the horns, just finish. Every time I look at you I…’ she stopped and steadied her breathing. ‘It would be best,’ she concluded and came down a few more steps. Peter approached her and took the proffered bag.

‘It’s just so sudden, I can’t think,’ he admitted, ‘You come home and say Elaine wants me to go back, that we’re are ‘just friends’ now and give me my stuff.’

‘It’s not like you’d moved in; it was only a few days.’

‘Jenna you know what I mean. This isn’t just, ‘I’ll see you this weekend,’ or ‘catch you tomorrow,’ this is changing the whole nature of our relationship. When you live in someone’s pocket as long as we did you can’t just cut off from them like this. I can’t imagine a life without you in it…’

‘I said we were friends,’ she looked up at him quickly with her huge eyes brimming. Even two steps up she was smaller than him.

‘How realistic is that?’ he asked, ‘Really?’

‘It’s perfectly realistic,’ she said defensively, ‘We let things settle down a while and then I’m sure we can go for the odd coffee or…’

‘Jenna!’ he snapped and immediately regretted it when she looked at him with shock. He never raised his voice. ‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘But that isn’t going to happen. We’re not going to just stop feeling like this, we tried that remember. It’s not a case of declaring this the Republic of Platonic Friendship and having that ring true. If I start having coffee with you, bumping into you at parties, that’s just fuel to the fire.’

‘So, what we just don’t see each other?’ Jenna asked.

And Peter nodded.

‘That’s just childish! That didn’t work last time,’ Jenna observed.

‘That’s because deep down we didn’t want it to. Something felt uncompleted. This time it’s different, this time it _has_ to work, we’ve had a taste of what happens when it doesn’t.’

He saw her move her head almost unperceivably and knew that she knew it to be true. Their bond was too strong, what they felt was too overwhelming and any contact put everything at risk, but she was in pain and he had to make it better somehow before he went.

‘Jenna, listen to me,’ he said, ‘I’m not doing any of this to hurt you. I’m not doing it because you aren’t good enough or I don’t love you sufficiently. I’m doing this in part because I do love you, because you need your future to be bright and not tarnished by an extra marital affair with some old codger you used to work with. I want you to act and win awards and be looked upon as the star you are. And I want you to be happy, to find someone who isn’t going to die when you’re middle aged and leave you. I want you to have children and a family and everything you want that I can’t give you. I want you to have what I’ve always been lucky enough to have, a proper companion, a proper loved one to share everything with. As much as I would like it to be, it can’t be me.’

He saw her wipe her cheeks quickly with one hand. ‘OK,’ she whispered, ‘OK,’ and she came down the last two steps to meet him.

Peter put down his bag briefly and stepped towards her and she poured herself into his arms. He held her against him gently and kissed her hair, breathed her in, tried to bank the scent and the feel of her in his memory. Make some memories, Elaine had said, but he never expected one so painful. He couldn’t stand the embrace too long. He had to move on, he had to let her go, so he stood back and looked down at her for the last time.

‘I do love you, Jenna,’ he said hoarsely and bent to meet her lips with his for a moment. The kiss was soft and open, tender in every way, and then it was gone. Aware he was on the verge of breaking down, aware of the gathering pain around his heart sending tendrils of weakness to his limbs, he turned to the door and opened it onto the sunny evening outside. He glanced over his shoulder at her standing at the bottom of the stairs, tears streaming down her face.

‘Goodbye Jenna,’ he said.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jenna is left alone and tries to cope with Peter's departure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having a long day of writing to try and get this finished and posted so please forgive if there are any more typos than usual!

She stood motionless for a minute, hoping some vague hope that if nothing changed in the room, if she didn’t move, he might reappear. When at last he didn’t her legs felt weak and she collapsed in a bundle onto the bottom step. The tears just came quietly, wetting her cheeks, but her eyes remained wide, staring in disbelief around her.

Peter was gone. And she had more or less told him to go, sided with the enemy, pushed him to go back to Elaine. If she was cannier, if she was sly she could have manipulated him into staying with her. She’d seen other girls do it, but she’d also seen the fall out. Manipulation never came to any good and in the end, the married man always went home, and Elaine didn’t deserve to be treated badly.

Jenna didn’t have it in her to be cruel, to destroy a marriage for her own sake. After all there were two of them and one of her; better that one person alone felt the pain, despite what Elaine had said about it being unfair on that one. She put her head in her hands and let more tears fall. She’d cry until no more came and then she would stand up and decide what to do.

What to do. After she left Elaine’s she went for a drive and then a walk. She went to a café and sat outside in the sun, watching couples and families and feeling left out. Sometimes she thought about impossibilities and now those impossibilities tried to influence her. Ridiculous sounding things like getting married to Peter. Married, she had scoffed at herself for even having that thought. He was already married, that would never, ever change. But her mind carried on down that track for a while longer, she pictured herself with children. He was so good with children, so wonderfully silly and able to immerse himself in their world. But he’d done it all before, he’d had his family and now he was settled into that loving long term companionship he valued so much. Marriage and children; never going to happen.

So she had another cup of coffee and this time watched a different type of person on the street. The ones out there on their own. The ones who were rushing to important meetings with bare ring fingers, or coming out of the Tesco Metro with meals for one. And the elderly, slowly making their way along the same road. Had they lost someone, or never found that love? Jenna had sat in the sun with her sunglasses on and hidden the misting in her eyes. Who would she end up being?

She had thought about everything Elaine had said; about their marriage and about Jenna. About the complexity of Peter’s feelings and just how long they had lasted. Jenna had been surprised to say the least but at the end of the day, thirty years won out. He was Elaine’s. She had to let go. She could so easily go back home and tell Peter a lie, indicate Elaine might never forgive him and he might as well stay put; except she couldn’t tell that lie. She couldn’t manipulate the situation. Elaine loved him, she’d take him back and Peter would be himself again, supported by their relationship and their incredible strength as a couple.

She could only wish that she found someone like him one day, although deep down she knew that only one existed, and he was taken. She left a tip and headed home to have a conversation that would change everything. She would try to be composed at least.

On the step hours later Jenna’s tears finally dried. Her head hurt and she felt sick from dehydration. Outside the evening was drawing in and the sun had turned orange, the sky pink and yellow. She had lost track of time in a way she never had before, completely consumed by her thoughts. Stiffly she pulled herself up by the bannister and made her way through to the kitchen, flicking on the lights and intending to go to the fridge for a drink.

Her eyes lit on the utility room where the tumble dryer sat with its door open. Peter’s things from their weekend tour were still in there minus what he had chosen to wear today. Jenna sighed painfully, she’d have to remove his clothes from it eventually. That or never dry her own again.

‘Come on,’ she muttered and knelt down beside the machine with a basket she’d grabbed from onto of the washer. She quickly emptied Peter’s clothes into it and then stood up, placed it on the counter. Shirts and T-shirts, mainly black, motifs that brought back memories.

_Blackstar._

Sliding her hand under his T-shirt, the feel of his skin, his taut muscles and sparse hair on his chest, the way he caught his breath when she touched his nipple. Pulling the shirt up and kissing what lay beneath. The taste of sweat after a long day signing and posing, the taste of him, intoxicating and moreish, like nothing she’d tasted before.

She realised after a while she was holding the bundle of clothes against her chest and picturing them together, her eyes closed. It was not something which was going to help in the long run, not when memories were so fresh that they cut deep. She decided to take the clothes to the spare room he had been in, dump them there and shut the door for a while.

Up the stairs and into the room and Jenna immediately regretted her actions. There was so much evidence he had been there. The rumpled sheets, the towel, a lingering smell of aftershave. Jenna dumped the fresh clothes in a chair and stood by the bed. She should strip it, tear off the sheets and wash the lot. Open the windows and air the place. Smell was too powerful a sense to mess about with. The slightest scent of something could bring back so much, and all the scent of his aftershave would do would be to trigger memories of his kiss, still fresh now on her lips. If she licked them she could probably taste him, all mints and coffee like he always was.

She slumped onto the bed. This was just the beginning. Rid the house of evidence and lock the doors. It could be done simply, but she couldn’t rid the world of him. They moved in the same circles, they lived close by to one another, they would stumble across each other’s paths if they meant to or not. Jenna would bump into him at some awards ceremony with Elaine on his arm, smile and be polite and try not to think of the times he wrapped himself around her back as she slept, the times he was inside her.

She stood up again, restless. She reached over and stripped the bed rapidly, gathering the sheets and pillowcases and trotting purposefully downstairs. Jenna shoved the lot in the washing machine but not before a whiff of scent reached her. She bowed her head and breathed it in, swallowing hard against emotion. No, no she would wash it all; it was that or sleep in his bed, swaddle herself with his old sheets and cry. She had done enough crying, it was time to close the chapter. She slammed the door of the machine shut and programmed the wash, sat watching the first streams of water drench the cotton.

Upstairs again, tearing an old plastic bag out of a kitchen drawer before the left, back into the spare room. Clothes, a pile of them unironed, unfolded, being stuffed in the bag. Don’t look at them, don’t remember, just bag them, get rid. Get rid!

Jenna hesitated with the bag. She needed to calm down, these were his things. He hadn’t done anything wrong. He wasn’t some kid who’d broken her heart, he was a grown man who had fallen in love and tried to do right. He didn’t want any of this to have happened. She shouldn’t just rid herself of his things, but she shouldn’t keep them either. She knew she’d be too tempted to take them out and look. She glanced at the table by the bed. His watch, he’d left his watch too. Well that settled it, his things had to be returned, sooner rather than later, and it would be dark soon.

She could leave it outside his door. Jenna put the watch in an envelope and the clothes in the bag and taped both shut. The practicality calmed her and gave her a focus. She put her coat on and took her keys as she left the house.

The evening was reaching twilight as Jenna pulled up at the house which had been Elaine’s earlier and was now _theirs._ In the passenger seat the bag and envelope demanded delivery but she sat frozen. Nothing moved on the street, it was a quiet and well to do area where most citizens were in bed by now or curled up in front of the TV. Families and pensioners, the occasional dog owner who might venture out in the dark, and so many artists, musicians, actors that it was like an IMDb rolecall.

Jenna had been so excited when Peter had moved to that area from his old stamping ground. She went round the first day with a pot plant because that she believed was what people traditionally did. He’d laughed at her and made her coffee, unpacking the mugs straight from the cardboard box. Elaine was there too, she smiled and waved, but largely left them to it, coming and going now and then, teasing them for being such children together. Jenna stayed all day, helping organise the kitchen and keeping up a constant stream of chatter and laughter. She missed those days already.

She got out the car and walked around to the passenger side, lifting the delivery into her arms and locking the door. She glanced up and down the street for traffic and then slowly crossed, stopping at the bottom of the steps. The light from the living room was on and cast a glow over the pavement. Further up she could see the light on the upstairs landing. She took a deep breath and climbed the first few steps until her eyes came level with the living room.

It hurt more than she thought it would, to see them that way. Inside the house Elaine and Peter were sharing a sofa, their backs largely to the window. Peter’s arm was around his wife holding her close to him and every now and then touching her hair as they talked. He was gentle and attentive and she seemed to have welcomed him back with no compunction. Husband and wife, as they should be. Jenna could feel the scene searing itself into her brain, she was never going to forget the image or how it felt inside. It served to tell her everything she was trying to avoid deep down. She could repeat to herself ad infinitum that he wasn’t hers, but here was the proof.

She put the belongings on the top step, hesitating and wondering whether or not to post the watch. It might break falling to the floor, and it might also alert them. Jenna tucked it under the bag out of sight and then scurried down the steps. She didn’t want to be seen at any cost, she just didn’t know what she would do. Jenna dived into her car and sat, breathing hard, nausea coming in waves, she gripped the steering wheel with both hands and tried to calm down. Peter was home, he was with Elaine, it was over. She had to accept it and move on, she had to go home.

But she sat another few minutes looking up at the light of their window as the twilight turned full dark. Theirs was a world in which a marriage lasted decades, in which forgiveness and understanding reached unprecedented levels and love outlasted everything. Relationships like theirs were rare and beautiful and she could only hope one day to have one even close to it.

Jenna suddenly felt so lonely. She would never feel love like that again. She turned the ignition and went home.

When she got indoors the darkness followed and she didn’t turn on the lights. Instead she fetched a bottle of wine from the kitchen and a glass, removed her shoes and hauled herself up the stairs. What a week, she just had nothing left. No energy, and now no Peter. She passed the empty spare room and made sure the door was closed tight before reaching her own. Sitting up at the top of the bed, in amongst the pillows and cushions she opened the wine.

The pain had to get better, she knew that. And she knew a lot of what Peter had said was true, his reasons for leaving were valid and well intentioned. She had suffered heartbreak before and it always healed, but she suspected this one would leave a scar, maybe leave a wound that continued to weep.

She downed the first glass and refilled it, rubbed her forehead and her eyes and thought about trying to sleep. She was exhausted but she was also shaking, from adrenaline, from emotion. She would finish the wine, maybe call one of her girlfriends, maybe not. How would she explain any of it without giving him away? She didn’t want to make this any more complicated, have anyone else know.

She sipped the wine and again held her head, pounding now from everything that had happened. What was Peter doing now? She tried to stop the question from entering her mind but it came anyway alongside a selection of possibilities, some of which made her heart clench. More wine, she never drank more than a glass and she already felt tipsy, blurred around the edges, when she felt the vibration of her phone in her pocket.

Jenna opened her eyes.

‘Shit, shit…’ she slammed down the glass and scrabbled to extract the phone from her jeans, her hands felt numb and she almost dropped it finally fumbling it the right way round to see ‘private number,’ flash up. Her heart was leaping. Maybe he had changed his mind, maybe her crazy impossibilities might be possible after all.

‘Hello?’ She hit answer and heard a male voice, Scottish accent and her heart soared.

‘Jenna? Are you OK?’

‘I…’ it took a second to filter the words, hear the tone of his voice. It took a moment to realise.

‘I’ve not heard from you in ages,’ he said, ‘How are things?’

‘…Richard,’ she breathed and her heart went back to breaking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not over yet...


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six months on and Peter is playing the good husband.

He just didn’t know how long he could do this. Five or six day weeks filming twelve hour days, sometimes more, in all weathers. He wasn’t getting any younger. Those hours and these endless journeys back and forth to London, the dark and cold of the M4, sitting in the back of the BBC car, fingers frozen, arthritis nagging at his joints. He felt old. When had that started? He never used to feel this way.

He had loved his job. The stories and the costumes and the monsters. He loved the crew and the writers and the fans who followed them, waiting outside to try and meet him, wanting things signed and photos taken. It filled him with excitement. Each and every morning he had looked forward to the day, to appearing on set at six or seven am, running down a corridor and meeting Jenna…

He hauled himself loose of his train of thought. Jenna. Don’t think about the years with Jenna, or the fun you had. Don’t think about her at all. Peter stared out the tinted window of the car, he was almost home.

He had a new companion, another young woman called Pearl, bubbly and full of sheer happiness to be picked for the role, and she had joined him in June to get started on the next series. Now they were almost at Christmas and the pair of them got on well enough, worked well on camera, passed the time of day, but the spark was missing. Well of course it was, you didn’t get that kind of spark with just anyone.

Just another week, he told himself, another week until they broke for Christmas and he could have some peace and quiet, maybe hide himself away in his studio, do some painting. He knew what the subject would be. He needed something therapeutic, something to give him a boost. He’d never known himself to be so irritable, so flat at times, he was a perpetual optimist with a shedload of energy under normal circumstances. He hated that he had changed.

The car pulled up outside his house and the driver opened his door for him. He never quite got used to that, a little sign of status that he didn’t really believe he deserved. He was still just Peter as far as he was concerned and having people fall over themselves to open doors or carry umbrellas would forever remain odd. He had to practically wrestle his bag from the driver.

‘It’s OK, I’ve got it, thanks,’ he said with a tense smile.

Peter climbed the stairs and let himself in, dropping the bag in the hall and intending to head straight for a shower and bed. He was tired and he didn’t feel social at all. He wanted his head to shut off and let him sleep, preferably without dreams and memories. He felt like he hadn’t slept properly in months, six months. He hadn’t slept properly since…

‘Peter? That you back?’ Elaine called from the living room.

‘Yeah, just me.’

‘Well come here then, say hello,’

Peter stood for a moment, one hand on the bannister of the stairs and closed his eyes. He prayed Elaine wouldn’t keep him awake much longer, everything hurt and he wondered if he was coming down with something. She could tell him about her week tomorrow.

‘Peter!’

He opened his eyes, braved the living room.

‘Hi,’ he said, sliding onto the sofa with her. He kissed her cheek and she closed the booked she was reading. The TV rattled on in the background advertising new shows.

‘You look terrible,’ she said, thoughtful.

‘Thanks, I know.’

Elaine took off her reading glasses and looked at him more carefully.

‘I’m worried about you, really worried,’ she said, ‘Your sparkle is missing. You’re exhausted, irritable. You look worse every week.’

‘Again, thanks.’

‘Is it the job?’ she asked.

He took a breath to speak, hesitated. ‘I… don’t know. The job is the job, it’s as its always been. I’m just struggling with it…’

He could feel his wife’s eyes on his. ‘This job is your dream,’ she frowned.

‘It’s also incredibly hard work,’ Peter said, ‘And as such I need to go to bed.’

She raised her eyebrows, ‘So quickly? I wanted to talk to you. I’ve missed you.’

‘Yes, sorry, but I…’ he rubbed the bridge of his nose, ‘I’m not in a very good place tonight, I’m so tired. I’ll be much better company tomorrow.’

She acknowledged him faintly and stroked one hand through his hair. ‘Peter, I am so concerned, please hear me out because this has been coming for a while,’ she said, ‘You haven’t been the same since…’

‘I’m fine,’ he cut her off bluntly and again she frowned.

‘No, no you’re not,’ Elaine said, ‘This isn’t you, it’s like all the joy has leeched out of you. I don’t believe that can be the job.’

‘I’ve been doing it three years now, it’s pretty draining.’

‘Draining yes, but always fun. You never lost your sense of fun, until this summer.’

He made a non-committal sound. On the TV he heard a theme tune begin announcing the end of the adverts, and tensed further, moving to stand quickly, but Elaine held him steady.

‘It’s the last episode tonight,’ she said, ‘It’s half way through, the part where Victoria gets married.’

Peter looked down at his hands and clenched his jaw, Elaine’s hand was still on his thigh, holding him to the chair.

‘Have you seen any of it?’ she asked, ‘I’ve been hooked really. Funny I thought I’d struggle to watch her but she’s so good isn’t she? So fresh and inventive. She credits you for teaching her that, it was in an interview in _Marieclaire_ , wait I have it…’ she leaned over to the coffee table and rummaged for a moment, eventually finding the magazine. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I mean its been six months, the past is behind us…’

Peter didn’t move at first, aware that Jenna was onscreen; aware of how hard he found it to see her in any guise. Elaine was flicking through the magazine finding the article. ‘In here somewhere…’ she muttered, ‘She comes across so natural, normal…. Likeable, like I remember her,’ Elaine laughed. ‘Here!’ she folded the magazine back on itself and handed it to Peter. Jenna was plastered over one page, heavier make up than usual, a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. No dimples. It hurt him to look, so he looked up instead.

Jenna onscreen, tiny and regal. Wedding dress beautiful against her pale skin, hair shining and swept up. She wore a sparkling tiara and delicate wedding slippers. Barely any make up. And her smile, god her smile. She might have been acting, but her smile was real.

He felt something tear in his chest when he looked at her, she was a different woman to the one in the magazine. _Victoria_ had been filmed before the events of the award ceremony and during their first trial of being apart, of no contact. The last episode he remembered was shot when they were back in touch. He glanced back down at the magazine and compared the two images of Jenna. The most recent although fashionably angular, looked desperately unhappy.

Elaine was watching him. ‘She’s lost weight,’ she said, ‘Unless it’s all photoshopped of course, but it has a genuine quality.’

‘She was losing weight,’ he said, almost frightened to mention her name. ‘For roles, she did it for _Victoria_ to some extent.’

‘She didn’t need to.’

‘That’s what I said.’

There was a horrible pause during which the wedding march played on screen and Peter laid the magazine aside. ‘I really need to go to bed,’ he said and tried again to stand. Elaine grabbed his hand, pulled him back down.

‘Do you see her at all?’’ she asked gently.

‘No, I’ve not seen her at all, I promise.’

‘I wouldn’t mind if you did,’ Elaine commented.

‘We didn’t think it would be… it wasn’t a good idea,’ he said.

Elaine’s hand continued to hold his, ‘You didn’t trust yourselves?’

He nodded, ashamed and awkward.

‘Do you now?’ she asked. ‘Now some time has passed?’

‘I…’

‘Could you see her, as a friend, would you cope with it or would it hurt?’ Elaine’s tone implied he shouldn’t try to avoid the question and what’s more he felt so tired, so low, he couldn’t fight to hide the truth any longer.

‘No,’ he said, ‘It would hurt,’

Silence. Elaine was looking straight at him, ‘So nothing has changed. Six months apart and you’re still hurting just as much, still loving…’

‘I’m sorry,’ he covered his face, removing his hand from hers, ‘But I’m doing my best I swear. I haven’t contacted her once. Not once.’

‘I believe you,’ she said calmly, ‘I do.’

‘Good, good,’ he replied relieved.

‘But how often have you thought of it, how often have you wished?’

Peter shut his eyes. ‘That’s irrelevant. I’m here, with you, I love you and that’s an end to it.’

‘Except it isn’t,’ Elaine countered still just as calm, ‘You’re here, you love me, but your thoughts, maybe even your heart, they are elsewhere. With Jenna.’

Peter covered his face, distressed and exhausted, ‘Please Elaine, I’ve done nothing wrong, I love you, I’m not going anywhere, I’m not cheating, I’m sorry for ever putting you through that…’

‘Shh, shh,’ she took his wrists and lowered his hands and they came away damp with tears, ‘This is what worries me. Look at the state of you, look at what all this is doing.’

‘All what? The job, the hours? The travel?’ he took his hands back and swiped at his eyes.

‘Don’t be ridiculous I’m not talking about that, I’m taking about this,’ she lifted the magazine and turned the page to a double spread about Jenna. More photographs, this time with her dressed in a flimsy linen dress, On Again Off Again Richard by her side appearing sullen. Her body language was strained. ‘Look at what it’s doing to her too,’ Elaine directed.

He looked and felt a stabbing at his heart. She was fashionably thin, all cheekbones and shadow, low neckline and ribs just visible. But it wasn’t that which shocked him most, anyone as busy as she must be could lose weight and weight could be easily regained. Peter lifted the magazine closer and ran his thumb over the page where her face was printed.

‘Do you see?’ Elaine said, ‘Even I can see it so you must.’

‘I see,’ he answered, a lump in his throat.

‘She’s lifeless, Peter, those eyes are dead. What’s happened to her smile?’ Elaine paused and closed one concerned hand over his arm. ‘What’s happened to yours? I never wanted this, I never wanted two people to be so unhappy.’

Six months of pretending caught up with him at once and he sobbed into his palms. On the screen Victoria walked back down the aisle with her beloved husband, a man with whom she would bear children, a man she would lose when she was still so young, but the only man she ever loved or wanted. On his lap the magazine lay open and Jenna’s picture told him much more than the interview’s text. He didn’t know what to say, so he let Elaine say it for him.

‘Thank you for trying,’ she said, ‘But I think you know where you need to be. Where you both need to be.’

He looked up at her through a hazed mixture of pain, love and relief.

‘Go,’ she said through her tears.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So how has Jenna been these last few months and will it influence what she does now?

Jenna tipped the cleanser bottle upside down and let some seep into the cotton wool pad she held. She wiped it efficiently over her face, removing it when it turned the colour of her foundation and then reached for another, this time for her eyes. She’d never worn so much make up in her life as she had in the last few months, but she’d noticed she’d lost her glow and her skin was suffering. She needed sprucing up. Wait, no she needed cover-up for the first time since she was about fourteen.

Her eyeshadow came off easily but her mascara clung. It was a good thing too; the number of times she was tempted to cry. She couldn’t think of any good reason why, apart from the obvious, but she wouldn’t let her mind go there. That problem was always with her and nothing could be done about it. Just slap on your make up and go to your functions, have a little wine and pretend. You’re an actress, surely you can pretend.

She wasn’t shooting anything right now, there was a break in the next series of _Victoria,_ and Christmas was approaching. Normally she’d go and see family, or have a holiday with the girls but she was feeling increasingly withdrawn, the parties and functions becoming less. She didn’t even like answering the phone. Jenna felt listless and tired, she didn’t want to eat and she’d gone down a size, maybe two. The press either loved it or hated it, praised her for her new figure, or critiqued her as a poor example for young women.

Yeah, well young women didn’t feel the way she did. Didn’t hurt the way she hurt. It was hard to swallow anything when your heart was bursting in your chest, when your stomach lurched and churned every minute of the day, when even your dreams were hard to bear and left you nauseous.

She finished removing her mascara and went back through to the bedroom to unzip her dress. A memory flashed into her mind, another dress she couldn’t undo, another party after she wrapped a shoot, another set of hands undoing the zip, warm on her back. Jenna shook her head. Forget it. Forget _him._ Please just forget him.

She glanced around the bedroom for her robe and found it cast over the chair. Her nose wrinkled when she found other items of clothing discarded there. Not hers, but his, Richard, currently Off Again after a drunken mistake of a night where she had been lonely and vulnerable. She hated herself for it now. Hated that he hung around of the off chance when she clearly said no. Hated that she knew damn well he was seeing some blonde from Game of Thrones and he had mucked her about so much. Hated that she got so lonely she sometimes said yes and gave out mixed signals and brought nothing but trouble down on herself. Most of all she hated that he wasn’t someone else.

He’d contacted her just as Peter vanished from her life and at first she’d resisted, hurting, unable to even contemplate it. Then as time passed she grew more unhappy and remembered what Peter had said about finding someone of her own. Maybe Richard would do? Her lack of true enthusiasm however marred the whole relationship. He was thinking about the Blonde, she had her mind on Peter and so for every photograph taken in public the pair of them looked dissatisfied and distant.

The latest ones were a fine example, spread all over the tabloids and internet. Richard standing chatting to another actress while Jenna stood aside awkwardly, mascara smudged under her eyes. She couldn’t believe she’d let herself go to that extent for one, but her greater concern was everyone now thinking she cared he was flirting with another girl. Her tears hadn’t been over him.

Jenna put on the robe and scraped her hair back, clipped it in place. She wondered what to do next. A shower? A long bath? She had no motivation for much else. She just didn’t enjoy anything, her usual favourites grey and dull. She didn’t want to sit in the bedroom, not with Richard’s things kicking about reminding her of the things they’d done, so she padded downstairs in bare feet and turned the lights on in the front room.

A few minutes in the kitchen made her cocoa, and then she switched the TV on in the front room, curled on the couch closest to the fireplace. She checked her laptop. The last episode of _Victoria_ had just gone out and her emails were full people gushing and suggesting she get a BAFTA next year. How they had enjoyed it, how talented she was. She’d have to write back and thank them all, at some point, not now. She looked further down the list and there were some from other friends along the line of ‘Are you OK?’ She closed the laptop again, leaned her forehead on her hand and shut her eyes.

The TV rattled on, on BBC1 and she heard the Christmas theme music. Wearily she opened her eyes. She loved Christmas, she loved Christmas TV and being full of turkey but she didn’t anticipate a happy time this year. She watched as the Beeb advertised _Eastenders_ and a new film based on a comic and then there it was. _Doctor Who._

Jenna’s face was motionless as Peter appeared on the screen, hair long and ruffled, velvet jacket and sonic screwdriver. He had new sidekicks, a one off girl before his proper new companion arrived next series, and a comedian. It looked wonderfully silly, the episode for Christmas day, and she thought back to the one they had done two years before. The one where the pair of them eloped. She mentally corrected herself, the one where their characters eloped. Life had been fun back then. Hard work but fun. Maybe she should have stayed on.

The advert ended and she sipped her cocoa, ignored the vibration of her phone in her clutch bag, dumped by the door. It would be Richard again, she knew, wondering why she had left the party early, wanting to come round and spend the night. She couldn’t face it; she couldn’t face him. The party had been just a step too far and she’d finally cracked. She didn’t see herself leaving the house for weeks now, not until _Victoria_ started up again anyway. The phone stopped and she found herself breathing a sigh of relief.

She watched the news, the ongoing misery of refugees and wars. The screen moved in front of her soullessly and she finished her hot drink. Jenna barely responded to the horrific scenes in front of her. It was like she was running out of tears tonight, her face and body felt numbed. She flicked through the channels aimlessly but nothing caught her attention, so she gave up and went to the kitchen to wash her mug. She might as well just go to bed, just lie there, but then she remembered Richard’s things. She needed to strip the sheets off. Sod it, she’d sleep in the spare room.

She had flicked off the lights and made her way to the bottom of the stairs when the doorbell went. Jenna froze, immediately suspicious of who it might be at half past ten. She suspected Richard so she waited in the dark for him to leave. The house was silent for a minute and then her phone started buzzing in her bag, presumably he was trying to phone her gain to get her to open the door.

Jenna tiptoed over to the table her clutch sat on and opened it up. Extracting the phone she double checked its screen expecting a wave of anger to wash over her as Richard’s name appeared, but it didn’t.

_Peter._

‘Oh my God,’ she whispered. She spun on the spot and almost launched herself towards the door, undoing the chain and lock as fast as she could. She hauled it open desperately but the doorway only revealed the street in front of her house and an empty space. He must have thought the lights were off, she wouldn’t answer and left.

‘No!’ without thinking, and still barefooted, she ran down the steps onto the pavement and looked frantically up and down for his familiar figure. It was freezing and she could already feel herself shaking with nerves and cold. She couldn’t see him; why couldn’t she see him? Did he walk or drive over? Had he vanished already?

Suddenly she got her answer when a bright set of headlights flooded the street and an engine roared into life. She saw the car pull out from the parking space and begin to head down to her house, presumably to drive past and go.

‘Peter!’ she ran into the road without thinking and there was a heavy sound of breaking but it didn’t stop her momentum. In seconds she was by the driver’s door as it swung open. Peter stepped out of the car even as he was rebuking her.

‘Jenna what the hell, I could have killed you!’

‘Peter what are you doing here?’ she asked breathlessly.

‘Apparently narrowly avoiding running over actresses, Christ you nearly gave me a heart attack.’

‘I’m fine.’

‘I’m not!’

She couldn’t help it, she just stood and grinned at him, too excited to form much of a sentence or question further why he had appeared after six long months. She shivered but she no longer cared, the world suddenly had colour again. Of course Peter was too sharp not to notice; he looked down at her feet.

‘Jenna you will freeze out here, you’ve no shoes! It’s about minus five. Go back indoors.’

‘Are you coming too?’

‘Yes, yes, I’ll just park up again, now go on before you become an ice lolly.’

He moved slightly as though he was getting back in the car and she couldn’t resist the impulse. Jenna threw her arms around his neck and he immediately responded, wrapping his arms around her warm and strong. She snuggled against his coat and breathed in that old aftershave.

‘Are you really here?’ she asked, ‘I’m not imagining it?’

He ran a hand up and down her back and kissed her hair. ‘I’m here,’ he said, ‘Now get inside.’

Jenna reluctantly let go and watched as he got back in the car before she realised just how cold she was. Her whole body hurt with it and she shook from head to frozen toe. She wasn’t sure if her feet were painful or just numb but she wasn’t sure they would ever defrost. She ran back to the house and up the freezing steps back indoors. The lights were flicked on again, the kettle filled and stood by the fireplace trying to warm herself up with excitement running riot through her bloodstream.

Why was he here? She worried that something was wrong and then her long forgotten optimism kicked in. Maybe he had come back for her? But he'd been so clear, his marriage had come first. Jenna cursed this was exactly why they had decided not to see one another. He could walk in that door and say he just thought he’d come for coffee and a catch up and nothing had changed. He could do that and there she would be with her heart in tatters again. Not that it ever really healed.

This could all be nothing. Her smile faded as she rubbed her arms. This might be a one off visit just to see how she was. She had to be careful because if that’s what he was doing he didn’t want to see her struggling or loving him too much. He just wanted to see someone who was moving on. He’d been back with Elaine six months; he was clearly doing OK despite his protestations initially. Now he was checking on Jenna.

She was almost crying again. Blasted tears that only Peter seemed able to trigger. Then he appeared through the door, shut it tight behind him and came to stand a few feet in front of her. He wore a heavy black overcoat and underneath Jenna could spot his usual layers of clothing. He was a little oddly styled and she realised quickly he seemed to be wearing his costume, or part of it, something that wasn’t unusual for Peter to do.

‘You’ve come straight from Wales haven’t you?’ she asked.

‘Via my place, yes,’ he said

There was an awkward pause.

‘Want to tell me why,’ Jenna prompted, ‘Not that I’m not pleased to see you, but why now?’

His face told her he was dreading the next bit and she could practically hear his heart racing nervously.

‘Come and sit down,’ Jenna instructed, amazed she could keep her cool. ‘You can take the coat off.’

He moved to the couch but kept the coat on, drew it round himself like a giant comfort blanket. Jenna sat next to him, angled her body towards him and watched him chew his lip nervously. He looked lost, and flat. Something was missing from his eyes and his anxious smile never reached them.

‘So?’ she said, stomach lurching.

‘I didn’t intend any of this to happen tonight,’ Peter said, ‘I don’t know where to start, it’s just all whirlwinded around me and here I am.’

Jenna frowned, ‘Not following.’

Peter breathed in, straightened himself up a little.

‘I was in Wales, you’re right, and then I was being driven back. And I don’t know it’s not been the same this year, the show, without…. Well without you, I miss you there and even though it’s the same crew, the same everything I just miss you,’ he looked at her earnestly and she knew he meant every word. ‘I was in the back of that car thinking I wanted to quit,’ he went on.

‘Peter you can’t quit! It’s been your dream all your life,’ she said and to her surprise he just shrugged.

‘I maybe it has but I’m not enjoying it. I’m not enjoying anything as much now that… well now that we don’t even speak.’

Ah there it was. He wanted to be back in touch. He wanted a friendship. Jenna’s heart sank a little.

‘You want us to be in contact?’ she clarified.

‘Yes! Yes, I want to be able to share things with you even if you’re not actually on set anymore. There’s this huge gap…’

Jenna was nodding, ‘Did you come over to see if it was OK to call me? You’re so silly sometimes. You could have actually called.’

‘Wait, no it’s not just that,’ he said, ‘That’s just a part of it. I miss you all the time it’s not just about the show, although that highlighted it to me painfully. Jenna I got home tonight to find Elaine watching your drama.’

‘ _Victoria?_ ’

‘Yes, your big wedding scene.’

‘Awkward,’ Jenna conceded.

‘Awkward wasn’t the word. She just took one look at me and saw everything.’

‘Everything?’

‘Everything I’ve been struggling with since summer,’ Peter said. He hesitated, ‘Everything to do with you. I was just too tired to keep up pretences. I just… broke down. She pointed you out on the screen, and then in her magazine and more or less said look at the difference. She was actually concerned about you… and me.’

‘Why?’ Jenna asked carefully.

‘Same reason I’m concerned about you,’ he said. ‘You look awful and you keep being seen with Richard, looking unhappy, looking drained looking like you just want away from him,’

Jenna bristled slightly, ‘Thanks a lot, you come round after six months and tell me I look rough.’

Peter sighed. ‘It’s not that you look rough,’ he said, ‘You look very fashionable with your new figure and your make up. But you don’t look like you.’

She felt defensive. ‘Maybe ‘me’ has altered, changed because of circumstances. I have to go to these parties, I have to put on a face.’

‘Maybe ‘you’ are hurting,’ he said. ‘And that’s why you have to have you ‘face,’ on.’

The pair of them paused, eye to eye and then Jenna looked down. ‘So what happened next?’ she asked, ‘Elaine pointed out my misery and you…’

‘She pointed out mine too, and then she… I don’t know how to put it… she just sort of, let me go.’

The words fired straight towards Jenna’s heart and took her breath away for a moment.

‘What?’ she asked. ‘She let you go? As in let you go from…’

‘From her, from our marriage. I think anyway. She told me to come here. It feels like she means that as in maybe the marriage is done with. Or changed into something else. I was a mess so I just did as she said and left. I still don’t quite believe it, but she said she didn’t want to see me the way I’ve been lately. And believe me I’ve been hell to live with and work with. She said it was obvious I was unhappy, thanked me for trying to keep the marriage going and then… she told me to go.’

‘She threw you out again?’ Jenna tried to understand.

‘She released me,’ he corrected.

‘And you came here?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’ she had to hear it, she had to hear the actual words. Peter looked straight at her and she could see him wrestle with everything that was going on, with what Elaine had said, with how he’d been feeling, with his sense of utter disbelief. She was wrestling with it herself, she didn’t want to break a marriage, but things had been so hard. She was so lonely. She still loved him.

‘I came here because... because I still feel exactly the way I’ve always felt about you,’ he said at last, ‘And because without you I’ve been hopeless, and because, because I’ve got this vague notion that you might…’ he stopped. ‘God that’s so arrogant of me, I’ve just realised. I’m sorry, I came straight here because I thought you might want me, because I still want you, but look at you, look at how things have been for you, all this success. Why would you want me when everything is going so well for you?’

‘Well for me?’ Jenna laughed, ‘I mean yes career wise, super. But it’s like Elaine said to you, look at the pictures in the media, do I look happy?’

‘No, but I won’t necessarily make you happy, I’ll just add layers of misery,’ Peter said, ‘I’m too old for you Jenna, I complicate things, I…’

All her sense of what was right and wrong left her. All of her ability to think of others, or put them first vanished. This time she just wanted him, she had always wanted him and there had been times in the last few months when she had thought she couldn’t survive without him. And she was sorry, sorry for Elaine, sorry for breaking a moral code, she really was, but sometimes you have to take what you want in this life. Sometimes you get second chances.

Jenna leaned forward and grabbed his face in both hands, kissed him hard. ‘Shut up,’ she said. ‘Shut up, shut up.’ She kissed him between commands and then stopped to rest her forehead against his.

‘I am past caring what people think,’ she said, ‘I don’t care if you are thirty years older than me, and a geek,’ she kissed him again when he laughed, ‘I was beginning to think my heart would never heal, that I was going to feel like this for the rest of my life.’ Jenna felt him pull her towards him and settle her in his lap. She continued to kiss him tenderly, his lips, his cheek, his nose. She kissed his eyelids and his forehead and the curls behind his ear. Peter hummed, a deep purr of a noise and slipped his hand under her robe, let his fingers draw patterns on her thigh.

‘Jenna,’ he breathed close to her ear, ‘I’m sort of worn out with talking and thinking and trying to be a good man right now. Can we…? Please don’t think badly of me, I don’t care what we do, I just want to lie down and hold you.’

She kissed his lips a final time and drew back to look at him. ‘Why don’t we officially shut our minds down for a while?’ she said, ‘I don’t want to think; I just want to be with you.’

He nodded and smiled and she saw it travel like beautiful lightning to his eyes where it sparkled and shone. It was like something had been reignited in him at last, something that was always meant to be there and that was felt keenly when it was lost. It made her feel that everything somehow would work out, if she could just see that sparkle there, every day.

Jenna slipped off his lap and pulled him with her by one hand. They headed upstairs.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Peter has made his decision and he and Jenna start a new journey.

Spring. It sounded like spring. Peter lay still for just a few minutes longer and listened to the birds singing outside. There was sun streaming through the window and onto his side of the bed, warming his skin. The sheets were soft around him and the mattress too, cradling his body. God it felt so good, a night’s sleep, undisturbed, no early alarm, and the presence of the woman he loved at his back.

Of course he could now hear her coming up the stairs with determination, her usual trot more of a marching thud. The bedroom door opened behind him.

‘Peter, it’s nearly two o’clock, I know you’re tired but this is ridiculous,’ her voice was full of laughter and he heard her come around to face him. He cautiously opened one eye and peered up to find Jenna, hands on hips in mock disapproval.

‘I’ve just done seven back to back nights in freezing Wales,’ he said, ‘I don’t know if I’m coming or going, two am or two pm!’

Jenna giggled and bid him move over which he did so willingly as she slipped under the duvet still wearing her dress. She deliberately pressed against him and wriggled and he stirred at the contact.

‘If you want me to get up and out of the bed that doesn’t help,’ he complained.

‘Come on,’ she wheedled, ‘You need to get ready, this is our big moment!’

‘Why did we chose today?’ he asked again.’ And how can you be excited? Its terrifying.’

Jenna rolled her eyes, ‘Well it has to be soon, very soon if we’re to deal with the media in any way at all. It’s getting out of hand. Look,’ she leaned over to her side and snatched a newspaper off her bedside table. ‘This is from today.’

Peter held it at arm’s length and squinted. He and Jenna were pictured together at several venues as ‘evidence’ of their romantic involvement. A charity dinner where she leaned against him flirtatiously, head on his shoulder. A sporting event where she linked arms with him to steady herself on the grass in her silly high heels. A trip to the musical theatre in the West End where this time it was him giving them away, his hands positioned just a little too intimately on her hips as he looked down and spoke to her. For her part Jenna was entranced, as she was in every photo, just as Elaine had said to him last year. She always looked adoringly at him and if he was honest he at her. It was obvious what was going on to anyone with eyes.

The articles had been coming thick and fast since Christmas and initially the pair of them had tried to be so careful, a vain attempt to throw the press off the scent. The public were used to seeing them together, they were known to be close and no-one would suspect such an age gap relationship; but then people began piecing together clues. He was seen so often at Jenna’s house; Elaine refused to comment; Richard angrily accused Jenna of seeing a married man; Peter had accidently kissed Jenna on the lips rather than the cheek in public. More and more pictures. More and more stories; at dinner, in the park, walking down the street. They had a choice, never leave the house again or come clean.

‘And inside,’ Jenna said, turning the page, ‘Remember the taxi driver your solicitor warned off.’

‘You are kidding me?’ Peter exclaimed.

‘Looks like he sold his photos after all. And they have a date on them from his camera-phone,’ Jenna said gravely. ‘So you see we need to tackle this head on, more now than ever. And you need to sue him, but that’s a separate matter.’ She threw the paper aside.

Peter groaned and slumped back into the comfort of his pillows. ‘What must people think of me?’

‘Oi! And me!’

‘Oh I’ll get it worse. Dirty old man. Lead actor in the greatest family show ever broadcast. Shagging his companion.’

‘We are not just shagging! We’re in a relationship and that’s what we have to get across. We go out there today as a couple. Walk the red carpet, answer their questions…’

Peter looked alarmed ‘What? Have you lost your mind?’

‘Honesty is the best policy,’ Jenna said and then paused, her tone of voice more serious than before, ‘We fell in love, Peter, we tried not to, we tried not to hurt people, we put ourselves and others through a lot of pain and unhappiness. We can at least own that, explain.’

‘How do we explain all of this?’ he said quietly, ‘When people will judge so harshly? I’m hurtling towards sixty and I leave my loving wife for a woman half my age. It screams mid-life crisis. And what’s more I do it a week before Christmas.’

Jenna flinched, ‘Yeah actually that sounds pretty bad.’

‘Pretty bad? It’s going to demonise me. It doesn’t matter what good I have ever done, that was an unforgivable act. I could be a saint and still burn at the cross on Twitter. I feel awful about it already without people asking why I chose then.’

‘Elaine told you to do it then,’ Jenna said. ‘You were melting down, you couldn’t cope with Christmas too. I bet it would have been awful for her as well, a faked Christmas.’

‘I know, I know… but it still looks awful.’

Peter looked back at the newspaper and at the kiss he had shared with Jenna over a year ago outside her house. He remembered how wretched he felt, how difficult the conversations with Elaine had been. Things were still awkward and he suspected always would be and he didn’t want to add to that today. He had hurt her deeply but in the weeks and months that followed she surprised him with her strength. They were friends before they were lovers, before they were married. Deep down he prayed they might be again, because if he was honest he still missed her and that would never change.

Jenna was watching his face and he forced himself to look up at her.

‘It’s OK to talk about her,’ she said.

‘It’s a bit tactless though.’

Jenna rubbed his hand, ‘I’m not going to ignore the fact you had a thirty year relationship and you’re both hurting from it ending… or changing. God knows I lie awake thinking about it sometimes.’

‘You did nothing wrong,’ Peter reassured.

‘Didn’t I? Didn’t we? I think I did. You were married and I ignored it. We’re all to blame to some extent, and at the same time not. We’re all human and basically weak.’

‘Weak is how I feel for hurting her,’ he admitted, ‘But if it wasn’t her it would be you.’

‘And you either way it went,’ Jenna said, ‘Impossible situation. We all just have to try and help it get better.’

‘You’re right and you’re right about this film premiere today. We have to go, it’s all over the press. ‘Doctor Love and the Queen of his Two Hearts,’’ he watched Jenna crease up at the cheesy headline, ‘We really have to stop this,’ he said and laughed, ‘I mean really that’s _terrible_.’

‘So get up!’ she instructed. Peter pursed his lips.

‘Not yet,’ he answered, his hand disappearing under the covers.

‘What are you up to?’ Jenna giggled.

‘What does it look like?’ he lifted the hem of her flimsy dress and casually stroked his hand up her thigh to find her knickers.

‘Err we really don’t have time,’ Jenna tried. ‘If you wanted _that_ you should have woken up earlier!’

‘Why did you get in _under_ the covers then… that’s very unfair.’

She laughed at him and then breathed in sharply as his fingers slid between her legs. She felt wet to his touch, soft and swollen and his half-hearted arousal from before suddenly tripled. He felt Jenna reach around to push down his boxers and run her fingers over his buttocks causing him to jerk against her with a moan. She had definitely got under the covers deliberately.

Peter leaned down and kissed her deeply, felt her grind up against him with her pelvis and fought to lift her dress up and over her body. He broke the kiss and looked down at her exposed breasts, fuller now than they had been a few months ago, and below that the slight swell of her stomach. She was curved and soft and giving, her hair conditioned and shiny and her skin clear again. The sight of her, well and beautiful, her eyes bright, brought him absolute joy. He kissed her breasts and then her mouth again. He looked down at her face. She was smiling, with dimples.

‘Oh go on then,’ she teased, ‘You’ve twisted my arm, you can have your wicked way.’

Peter laughed at her and lifted her against him so that her legs wrapped around his hips. She let out a little gasp when he did so and rested her hands on his chest, stroking him, touching sensitive places as he angled himself towards her. When he pushed in she gasped again, then groaned, closing her eyes and adjusting to him. Her arms slipped around his neck now while he took his weight on his hands. She had teased him for long enough about his gym habit since they first made love but she appeared to be increasingly grateful for it.

Peter felt her tighten around him teasingly and made a small noise of pleasure as he began moving, timing his thrusts to hers and letting her dictate the pace. He opened his eyes and watched her take what she wanted from him, the little crease between her brows that was as yet her only line, formed a frown as her need grew stronger. Her mouth was open, lips pink, breath coming fast and he was close behind her simply from watching, accommodating, pleasing her.

At last her movements became deeper, her hands gripping him painfully and her head tipping back into the pillows and she drove down over him. She let forth a burst of noise as she released, calling out his name, crying out the odd expletive and moaning deeply. He felt her muscles contracting around him and his own body, thrusting hard, froze suddenly and spilled into her. He let out a shout, held on as the pleasure hit him and then panting slowly withdrew and toppled over to one side of her.

Peter listened as Jenna’s breathing came back to normal.

‘Wow,’ she said after a moment.

‘Hmm….’

‘Don’t you go back to sleep!’ she turned and leaned on her elbow. ‘Don’t you dare!’

He giggled, ‘Ok, Ok…’

Jenna kissed him softly, ‘Come on,’ she said, ‘We need to get ready, we need to face our public.’

He sighed, ‘Yes I suppose we must.’

‘Hey,’ she said, ‘Remember… the A Team you and me, doesn’t matter what any of them say.’ Peter looked up at her and gently stroked her hair.

‘You and me,’ he said and smiled.

 

 


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue -Life Mirrors Art

It was a bit of a guilty secret she had to admit. She never used to bother if she watched or not, but since Peter was gone she kept an eye out for him on TV, and in the press. It wasn’t that they never saw each other, it was just that those times were so hard. She was too busy holding herself together to really look at him. She just wanted to check he was OK. That he didn’t look too gaunt, or tired. That he was being looked after. She had to admit it, he was.

So it was on Saturday night that Elaine sat down in front of the TV alone and switched on _Doctor Who_. It was the last of the series and rumour had it on sound advice that Peter was leaving. He'd finished filming weeks ago but she hadn’t asked him for fear of upsetting him, and he hadn’t said. He was reticent these days in case things were overheard or got out to the press. She could see why; he’d had a hammering a few months ago. That was hard to see, but she didn’t expect anything else of the tabloids. He rode it out, bravely facing his fans and carrying on, and it settled down. People started to accept Jenna, or look elsewhere for gossip. He was stronger than he gave himself credit for. Always had been. Perhaps she’d always held him back, perhaps she had taught him how.

Leaving the show. He didn’t really have much choice she supposed if the programme was to uphold its moral standpoint. She felt a little sorry for him there. He loved the show so much, he wanted to stay, but the Doctor can’t be seen having affairs and dating someone half his age. She suspected the producers had been forced to that conclusion too and reluctantly told him to go, but no one would say anything substantial to the press as the ending to the series was apparently a ‘huge secret.’ Wasn’t it always, that just meant it wasn’t written yet.

Elaine was ok, she told people. She’d had thirty years and they were wonderful. He was still her friend, and although it hurt too much to see him often she genuinely thought that would improve with time. She prided herself on surviving and adapting, on being in control. The truth was she just loved him so very much she would forgive him almost anything. She liked to emphasis the almost. His infidelity was proving difficult to move past, but she would move past it she knew. He was her one weakness, whether he deserved forgiveness or not.

She questioned if she should be the bigger person or did that just make her a doormat? Zen master or walked over? She liked to think of herself as Zen, it was better for her self-esteem. She was managing, she thought, but social media and tabloids were her downfall. For a start they were everywhere. Twitter, Tumblr, Facebook to name but a handful. And they were fast, they’d snap Peter or Jenna and immediately upload and then her well-meaning friends would pass them onto her and she’d be faced with reality again and again. She didn’t need to see every moment they shared together, she already imagined it every day.

Pictures of them walking together in a park, pictures of them at a restaurant, pictures at an event. Peter was never publically very affectionate but if anyone knew the signs it was Elaine. He was smitten, Jenna was becoming his world, in the same way she used to be herself. The way he looked at her, the way she looked at him. They were transforming, binding, no longer two people but one. She recognised love that powerful and knew her marriage was over. He had a new life now.

Elaine made a cup of tea and kept half an eye on _Doctor Who_. She saw him fight off the latest monsters amongst a waterfall of special effects. He looked fit, broader somehow, faster. He was racing down a corridor and then he was trapped. She had to admit that even though she wasn’t a fan of the show particularly it was pretty riveting tonight. But then she had other reasons to be riveted. This was his goodbye and she was worried for him, not on screen him, but real him.

The final scenes were coming around and Elaine found herself on the edge of her seat, breath held. The Doctor was looking worse for wear, and a glow was forming around his hands and face. The classic regeneration scene was beginning. Here was where Peter would say goodbye to the last few years of his life, to all the people he had met and the places he had been. Elaine felt tears come to her eyes and saw them in his onscreen. She still loved him, and this would be hurting him so much. He wanted to be like Tom Baker and stay for years and years, but he would do the right thing and go if the producers suggested it, and they must have.

He must really love her, Elaine thought, to sacrifice all of that. And if he loves her so much, he can’t help it. You love who you love at the end of the day. He had tried to leave Jenna behind and failed. Twice. She understood that in some ways. Elaine loved him, she couldn’t switch that off as much as she tried, so neither could he. She felt he was being punished for something he had no control over, although somehow she doubted her friends would see it that way.

The Doctor was lying alone of the floor of the corridor now, his injuries severe, and Elaine wondered why he hadn’t yet transformed into whoever had taken over. There had been some speculation in the papers who that could be, but no certainties. She checked her watch and noted there were only a couple of minutes to go and then a door opposite the Doctor burst open.

Elaine stared at the screen. She hadn’t been expecting _that._

_‘Doctor! There you are, I’ve been all round this spaceship looking for you,’ Clara said._

_‘What? Who are you…?’ he panted._

_Clara knelt by him carefully so as not to hurt him. ‘You don’t have to keep pretending,’ she said, ‘Neither of us do anymore.’_

Elaine laughed softly. No they didn’t. How ironic.

_He smiled, ‘You’ve no idea what a relief that is to me…’ he said. ‘Even if it is a little late.’_

_‘Late?’ Clara replied and he gestured to the regeneration energy._

_‘I’m a bit done for,’ he said, ‘Taken a bit of a battering. It might be time for a different me.’_

Well that was the producer speaking if ever she heard one.

_Clara appeared to evaluate the damage. ‘Oh no, you don’t get out of it that easily,’ she said, ‘You don’t get to just give up,’ and a golden glow formed around her hand._

_‘Clara! How are you…?’ he asked._

_‘Let’s just say I picked up a few skills while I‘ve been away,’ she said, ‘ you know, basket weaving, fixing TARDISes, painting, oh and…some helpful regeneration energy for healing and the like.’_

Elaine raised her eyebrows, curious where this was going.

_‘We can fix this,’ Clara said, and held her hand against his wounded chest, healing him from the outside in. ‘That’s what you and I do. We’re the A team.’_

_The Doctor glowed golden orange but his features didn’t change._

_‘Feeling better?’ Clara asked._

The Doctor and Elaine stared in wonder at the plot twist. There was no regeneration, there was no recast. She had thought it inevitable, the media backlash would destroy him, but perhaps his reputation had saved him after all. His kindness and his generosity over the preceding years, the time a few months ago where he had openly answered queries just to try and move the spotlight from him and his family. There wasn’t a bad bone in his body and perhaps people had seen past the mess of the last year and given him that chance. She hoped so, deep down she still rooted for him and always would. She wished he would survive this and continue to enjoy his favourite role for a long time yet. Elaine’s heart ached and prayed at the same time.

_Clara stood and held out her hands to the Doctor, helping him to stand._

_‘Clara, how did you do this, how and why?’ he asked._

_‘How? Well that’s a long story,’ she said, ‘Why, well that’s an easy one.’ She stood on tiptoes and gently kissed his cheek. ‘I’d do anything for you, you daft old man…and while we’re at it, did I hear you had a vacancy for a new travelling companion? I’ve got a bit of free time…’_

Something about the pair of them just made sense even through the pain.

Elaine switched off the TV.


End file.
